Never Did Run Smooth
by Hermia S
Summary: It's not unheard of for a young girl to develop feelings for a mentor. Once they come of age, those feelings are often quelled, but that was never the case for the princess of Albion. Through revolution and her reign, she loved him.
1. Prologue : A Challenge

Being a princess was plagued with difficult decisions.

Valerie crossed her arms over her chest, index finger tapping against her rounded chin as she eyed the choices. One would be all fun and games at first, true, but it packed a nasty punch. She'd regret it for a long time afterwords. The second was the much safer choice, the one her mother would no doubt approve of. But what was the _fun_ in picking the safe choice? Everyone knew that picking the more risky of the two offered the greater reward. Fun. Fun was important, wasn't it?

Her dark brows knitted together, and she shifted on her heels. Her mother's approval, while important in the long run, didn't mean much for tonight. She was distracted. She was always distracted during the annual celebration of her coronation.

"Oh, why the hell not?" Val muttered to herself, reaching forward and grabbing the slender glass as opposed to the squat one. She was just about to lift it to her lips when a hand swerved into sight and snatched it away. Her attention was pulled around with it, brown eyes flying wide in consternation. "I was drink -" Mouth snapping shut, she pressed her lips into a thin line.

"You were just about to drink this," General Finn said, lifting it up to his nose to take a long whiff. His nostrils twitched. The alcohol was potent. "In your dreams, princess. D'you have any idea how much trouble the staff would be in if your mum found you smashed?"

Val shrugged, unable to keep the bubbling feeling of disappointment in her chest from reaching her expression. "She wouldn't. I was going to be _discreet_."

"A discreet drunk. Riiight."

"I was only going to have one!"

"Yeah, one more than you're supposed to have." He set the glass down on the table, watching out of the corner of his eye as her gaze followed the drink longingly. She was jostled forward when his hand nudged just between her shoulder blades. "Come on, away from the booze."

"I'm of age, you know."

Ben Finn was one of her mother's greatest friends. _And co-conspirators, _Val thought venomously as she crossed her arms again. He laughed, a sharp bark that made a frustrated flush creep up her neck, and gave her back a conciliatory pat. "You're only seventeen, Val. Did your mother lower the legal drinking age when I wasn't looking?"

"No," she huffed in response. Glancing around the ballroom, her sights lingered upon the dancers as she was guided past them. The celebration was huge to-do in Bowerstone. Every scrap of nobility from around Albion gathered there to dance and eat and chat about everything pleasant under the sun. Her mother preferred the parade, but she'd always preferred spending time with the rabble.

Only Hobson stopped them to compliment her dress (evidently he was fond of lilac when paired with her coloring) and ask them where her mother was. "In the gardens," Ben said, his tone slipping momentarily into something very nearly solemn. "You know where."

"That I do," Hobson smiled, tapping his shiny bald head with his index finger as he bowed to Valerie before hobbling off.

When they were alone again, the general led her over to one of the many benches that lined the length of the room. She sat down, her voluminous skirts letting out a sigh not unlike her own, and he followed suit, sitting on the very edge with his hands on his knees.

"You're no _fun_, Ben. Mother always talks about how much fun you are, but I don't believe her."

Laughing again, Ben shook his head, muttering a quiet, "Kids these days," before glancing at her over his shoulder. "I'll have you know that I'm buckets of fun. I just don't much care for seeing the Queen's daughter grabbing for the potent stuff."

"So entertain me," Val ventured, her thick brows peaking high on her forehead. He remembered the day he met her, fourteen years prior. Her skin was smudged with soot and her dress was threadbare, but none of that mattered compared to the wide smile on her face. It matched the one on Sabrina's. It was obvious from the start that the queen's grin had nothing to do with her recent, bumpy ascent to the throne. That smile was for the three-year-old sitting on her hip. She'd grown since then, which wasn't much of a surprise. Her dresses grew in size, as did her mouth, and by her seventeenth year, you could hardly guess her humble beginnings. "Show me you're not the bump on a log you seem."

"Wow," he breathed, a chuckle threading into his amusement. "Yes, _ma'am_. And how do you think I'll be able to prove it, huh? What do you want me to do? I don't have much of a talent at juggling anymore. That was years ago." Tapping his fingers on his knees, his head tilted from side to side as he contemplated the possibilities. "I could tell you a story? I've always been good at telling stories."

Val's hands gathered in the mass of lilac skirts that had once been her lap. "Old Uncle Ben's going to tell me a story, then?" she asked, shifting a bit on her rear.

"Oh, come off it. You're just trying to make me feel ancient on purpose now."

The teenager grinned, and he rolled his eyes.

"_Yes_," he continued with a resigned sigh. A hint of mocking crept into his tone, "'Old Uncle Ben' is going to tell you a story. But before something terrible happens, like my decrepit bones grinding themselves into ash, do you have any requests?"

"Huh." A chill shot down her back when she rested her shoulders against the cool column behind her. "What about mother? I've heard a lot about her before she became queen, but most of it's from people who weren't even there." She paused, reconsidering her words. "People who weren't directly involved, I mean, more preoccupied with keeping themselves safe and inconspicuous."

At the thinly veiled request, Ben couldn't help but smile, a dimple forming in his unshaven cheek. Rubbing at the two day's growth of blonde stubble on his chin, he glanced over his shoulder again, this time going so far as twisting his waist to get a better look at her. "I have a better idea," he began, letting his arm fall across his lap. He'd considered this tale many times in the past few years, but a very strong part of him refused to tell her. She wasn't ready; she was too young to hear all that he had to say. That wasn't the case any longer. "Exactly how much do you know about Sir Walter Beck?"

"I know that he was my mother's mentor," she replied as her fingers worked idly at her dress's lace adornments. "He died when the Darkness threatened Albion."

"Is that all? Really, in seventeen years, that's _all_ you've heard about him?"

Val looked up at him from her hands. "Well, not _everything_, but that's all mother's told me. I don't really trust hearsay and for good reason." Biting on the inside of her bottom lip, she looked away from Ben to glance around the ballroom again. "I mean, I've heard it said a few times that he was like a father to me for the year I spent in the castle when he was still alive. I don't really remember much about him."

"And the people who told you that also told you that he and your mother were lovers, yeah?" he asked.

He watched her face closely for any sign of reaction. Her brows dipped inward again before her eyes jerked up to his. "They said that, yes, but I assumed it was only a rumor." When Ben didn't immediately assure her that it was, Val's mouth fell open. "It wasn't!"

Ben chuckled and shook his head. "Nope. Not any more than my being the most handsome general the Royal Army's ever seen – oi! Don't look at me like that; it's true. Val, stop laughing."

The princess tried her best to stop her giggling, only succeeding in ending it in a chorus of tiny hiccups. "Keep going, Mr. Finn. I want to know what's not a rumor. Your being the most handsome general Albion's ever seen isn't a rumor, right?"

Blue eyes rolling, Ben shifted on his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. This would be a long story, he imagined. The revolution stretched over nearly three years, but all that he knew went on for far longer. "I'm going to start my story now, thank you." Hitching up his shoulder in mocked offense, he smoothed his calloused palms over his trousers. "Sir Walter Beck was a very good friend of your grandmother's, the Hero called Lionheart, previously Sparrow. They fought together as she grew older. For a time, he was little more than a soldier in Lionheart's army, but his, uh, soldierly panache soon grabbed her attention and was made a knight."

"Ugh."

"Hey, if you don't want me to tell it..."

Val shook her head, her hands flapping for him to continue. She could manage to keep her comments to herself if that was the only way she'd be getting a story, _this_ story in particular. She was a princess, after all, plucked from the Bowerstone orphanage by the queen herself and brought to live in the very lap of luxury. If someone like her couldn't believe in the power of a good story, no one could. "I just want you to get to the interesting parts, is all."

"Avo's ar – uh, _hindquarters_, will you let me tell the story, or do you want to sit in prickly silence for the rest of the night? Because you're not going anywhere. Not to get yourself drunk and wind up passed out in the treasury. Ah, ah, no, don't give me that face. I heard it straight from Hobson."

Rolling her eyes, she held her hands in her lap once more. "_Fine_. Go on. Tell your story."

"Once knighted, Sir Walter only grew in her esteem and was finally brought into the castle permanently, as an advisor of sorts of the queen and a mentor for your mother." Laughing to himself, Ben rubbed at the back of his neck. "Didn't give him as much trouble you gave me as a kid, that's for damn sure."

"Yes, well, he probably didn't have a stick up his arse."

"He-ey! Language, princess!"

Val narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm _seventeen years old_. Stop treating me like a child and get on with the story of my mother's tempestuous love affair with her surly mentor, please."

Her head cocked to the side when she heard him give a snort of laughter. "What is it _now_?"

"Tempestuous. Right."

"Ben. I've read through enough fiction to know that most, if not all, love affairs are the tempestuous sort."

Giving his cheek a little smack of disbelief, he shook his head. How had he gotten himself into this? He should just stop while he was ahead. "You really don't know your mother very well, do you? When I first met her, she was nearly swimming in this beat up old mercenary outfit – a boy's large, I imagine – and was nearly as tall as she is now with half the muscle. She couldn't have been _tempestuous _outside of her own imagination if she tried."

"So what's the big fuss? I thought you were waiting to tell me this story because it was too... mature for my young mind to handle."

Ben took a good, long look at her. She was nothing like Sabrina, a testament in itself to her adoption. Her cheeks were full and freckled, and she was much shorter than her mother. Her features were soft where her mother's were pointed, just as she somehow retained the slight twang of Bowerstone Industrial, even after so many years of being tutored. While pretty, it was impossible to not focus on the one thing that separated her from the queen entirely. She was not a Hero. Not by a long shot.

"Val, as much as I wish I could joke about this..." He passed his tongue over his bottom lip, turning his face from hers for a moment before looking back. "You know how I am. I joke about _everything_. It's how I deal with things. But this? You knowing this would mean a lot to your mother."

He watched as Valerie's face softened. She hadn't expected this sort of sentiment out of Ben, not when there were festivities on. He was always the first to enjoy himself, and the rapid change of pace was jarring at best, leaving her voice little more than a whisper when it left her. "What do you mean by that? If she wanted me to know, she'd have told me herself, wouldn't she?"

"There's a reason why she never attends these big celebrations, you know." He took a breath, releasing it in a sigh. "Why she spends most of the night out in the gardens."

"The statue. There's a statue of Sir Walter in the garden."

"Right." Ben smiled, though this one didn't bear any teeth. It was a solitary twist on an otherwise sad expression. "You know that Walter died the year after she was crowned?" Val nodded. "She saved very nearly _everyone_. There wasn't a casualty in all of Albion. For a solid year, she worked herself to the bone trying to find ways to save them all, but, in the end, she just couldn't. She couldn't save every single one."

Swallowing thickly, he managed a rumble of a chuckle. "But this isn't all about that," he said, reaching over to give her knee a nonchalant pat. "The beginning of this story may be hearsay, but it was hearsay straight from your dear mum's mouth. And... ah, maybe a little from her journal."

Val gasped. Ben laughed. The sound was light; genuine. "She kept it lying around; it was practically an invitation!"

"So you scrounged up details from my mother's _diary_ to fill in the blanks."

"It's a perfectly reputable –" When she narrowed her eyes at him, he held up both of his hands in a gesture of defeat. "Okay, okay, so maybe I didn't get any real information from the journal, but I did hear a lot from Sabrina." He sighed before straightening his posture. "I can't believe I'm being ordered around by a kid."

"_Lady_."

"Girl."

"Young _woman_."

Both Ben and Val glared at each other before the princess' serious face cracked into a smile. Nudging him in the arm, she laughed. "Come on, Uncle Ben. _Tell me_."

"Only if you stop calling me that," the general retorted, lips pursing in indignance.

"General Benjamin Finn, won't you tell me a story about my mother?"

"Gods, that's even worse."

Val let loose a string of devious giggles, though the sound came to a complete and utter halt the moment Ben cleared his throat, a sure sign of the story's beginning. "Your mother was... hm, how should I put it? She was _smitten_. A teenager at the time of our opening, she was already quite sure that Sir Walter Beck was the only man she could ever love. And as much as everyone who knew of her feelings for her mentor – and this was, quite literally, everyone save Sir Walter himself – told her that it was nothing more than calf love, she _knew_ otherwise."

Ben smiled, if briefly, before continuing. "Your mother's always been a smart woman."


	2. Chapter I : Enter the Princess

**A/N: **I just wanted to thank you all for the reviews! They're all incredibly inspiring and sweet. Now, onto chapter one!

* * *

"So you're saying my mother has never loved anyone else?" One of Val's brows shot upwards, her entire face relaying the feeling of confusion she felt almost to her bones. She'd seen any number of handsome men littering the ballroom tonight, all of which her mother could have had her pick. While she was a believer in romance and had an antechamber filled with novels to prove it, she couldn't imagine how someone could rob themselves of the opportunity to find happiness.

Ben pursed his lips as if contemplating her question. "No, I don't believe she has. Not in a romantic sense, at least. She loves you and your brothers. She loves me. Page. Kalin. She loves her people. It's a different sort of affection, though. Definitely not the same thing she felt for Walter."

Val's foot flexed, slipper slapping against her heel. "I... don't mean to be disrespectful to him or anything, but... what's the big deal? What made him so special to her?"

"I understand," he chuckled. "It's not the easiest thing to understand without a proper explanation, which is why I'm telling you this, right? Once we're done, you'll know your mother better than almost everyone in Albion... Not that her relationship with Walter is her only defining characteristic. She'd fry me to little crispy bits if I said something like that."

"So when are you going to begin this epic tale of lost love, huh? They've started and finished two dances since you began."

The general gave a resigned sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I didn't say it was _epic_, Val. If you keep making it out to be bigger than it actually was, you'll just end up being disappointed. And I'd like to point out that this story is about any lost love." He looked at her, expression sober. "She hasn't lost any of it from what I can reckon."

Val leaned forward, her feet barely dragging over the floor as they moved back and forth. "You dodged my question. When are you going to start? And where?"

Rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, Ben straightened his posture, ignoring the quiet pop at his lower back and the warm flood of relief that followed it. "Alright. Alright. Didn't your mother ever teach you how to be _patient_? It's like trying to deal with a child dizzy on sugar, I swear." He cleared his throat, avoiding her narrowed gaze until he was sure her face had softened. "The Queen's aide was much more than an advisor; he was also her fri –"

"You're going to start when my mother was a _child_?"

"Would you _stop _interrupting me?"

"Of course," Val countered. "When you actually start telling a _story_."

"I am telling a –"

She held up a gloved hand before waving it at him. "_Stories_ are about adventure. And drama. And all the things we don't indulge in in our day to day lives. You're giving me my mother's biography. My opinion of you being as interesting as watching Hobson shine gold coins one by one isn't going to change like that."

"Sweet mercy, you're _mean_. Where'd you get that mouth from?"

"Oh, let me think," Val murmured, lifting an index to tap her chin. "You."

"Ah, I see, turning it back on me, are you?" When she looked at him and grinned, her head bobbing, he shook his. "Touch_é_, princess. Though, in my defense, Sabrina should've known I wouldn't make the best nanny in the world. She should've hired someone."

Val yawned, though the sound was drawn out until it was very nearly dramatized.

"I'm _getting there_. It takes time to gather together the basic outline of a story, especially when you're telling it to someone as picky as you are. Where should I put the humor? The drama? Should I skip ahead to the good bits, or is expounding upon the menial necessary to properly portraying their relationship?"

"Ben?"

"Huh – yeah?"

"Just _get on with it_."

* * *

A chorus of laughter sprung up around the princess the moment her knuckles clumsily met Maxwell's. She looked around, an open mouthed smile forming out of nowhere in her surprise having not realized they were being watched so closely. Even Max was chuckling as he bowed, the heavily powdered white wig of his hovering mere inches in front of her face.

She coughed, only barely avoiding a sneeze at the smell by the time he righted himself with a smile. "You're improving, your Highness. A few weeks ago, you could barely get past the first bump."

"Don't remind me," Sabrina laughed. "I didn't even realize you had your own _handshake_."

"_Secret_ handshake, your Highness."

The princess grinned, rolling onto the balls of her feet as her shoulders hefted upward in a gleeful gesture. Her smile pushed her flushed cheeks so far up on her face, her eyes nearly disappeared completely. "I'm honored you were willing to teach me – and put up with my hapless attempts!"

Maxwell pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. "Your attempts were hardly hapless. Everyone begins on shaky feet, do they not?"

"Too true, sir; too true." Lacing her gloved hands in front of her, she tilted her head downward in a small courtesy. It never failed to impress the nobility – Maxwell in particular – how _polite_ the young princess was. It was as if she and Logan weren't related at all. "I apologize for running off like this, but Elliot is waiting for me." She began walking away, only to turn, a thought unfinished, her strides shortening as she continued moving away. Backwards. The nobleman cringed inwardly. "I'll master your secret handshake one of these days, I swear!"

Just before she was able to turn around, the her heel stepped awkwardly on a pebble, and Maxwell watched in horror as she wobbled backwards, hopping once before she was able to settle back down on her feet. She gave him a wave goodbye before turning around and disappearing around the corner of the building.

Hammer streaked out in front of her at the sight of Elliot, little more than a brown and white blur until she came to a sudden halt in front of him. The dog went onto its hind legs and set her large paws on his vest, wide, pink tongue lapping at his face. Logan often remarked that her dog showed El more attention than she did; he couldn't comprehend how the princess might overlook the boy who'd been paired with her since childhood.

"The royal pastry has finally decided to join us, I see!" Elliot cheered over the dog's shoulder. A wide skull turned back to look at her, tongue flopping out of her mouth. His hands went up to behind her ears, rubbing her short fur affectionately.

Sabrina's eyes fell to her dress, and her brow wrinkled despite her smile, fingers plucking at the tiered lace of her skirt. "In my defense, Jasper made me feel bad," she said, "_But you are to see young Master Elliot today, your Highness. Why don't you choose the pretty as opposed to the practical?_"

"Still playing match-maker, I see," he teased, nudging Hammer just far enough away for the dog to go onto all four legs. She bumped her head against his hand, and he gave the fur between her ears a scratch. "Living in denial, no doubt. Just like your brother."

The princess' blue eyes flicked up to the sky. It was amazing how she could look so very _innocent_ without much work on her part. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Elliot."

"Mm-hmm. And Hammer here is a Hero, aren't you, girl?"

"Considering her namesake, I wouldn't be surprised," Sabrina said with a small smile. She lifted her hands, waving them in an attempt to focus. "Jasper told me you wanted to speak with me. I assume it was for more than a discussion of what my dog does in her free time?"

Elliot smiled, though this one was much smaller. There was an underlying solemnity to the twist of his lips. Letting go of the overgrown pup with a single pat on the head, he dusted his hair out of his eyes, lip bitten as if he wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. This was enough to pull Sabrina a step towards him, brows dipped together in confusion. "I wanted to talk to you about Logan."

"Ah." Sabrina gave a little sigh, her hands smoothing over the folds in her dress. "If this is about the factory workers, I've heard whispering. Extremely _biased_ whispering from the nobles, but whispering."

"What did they tell you?"

Wandering over to the large stone fencing that separated the castle's gardens from a steep drop opening into the rest of the city, Sabrina leaned against it, her chin balanced on a fist. "The nobles? They didn't tell _me_ anything. I was eavesdropping." She saw Elliot's crooked smile, and she allowed herself one in return. "That's the only way to actually learn anything current around here, and you know it."

Elliot nodded, moving up next to her and climbing onto the bottom rung of the fence. His hands pressed against the stone, fingers gripping at the carved edges. Down below them, Bowerstone went about its business. In the distance, she could just barely see the tell-tale smoke of Bowerstone Industrial, but the entirety of the market district stood between them, a barrier she was thankful for.

"They said that there was a worker killed just yesterday," she continued. All it took was a bump in the back of her thigh by Hammer to twist her around again. Glancing towards her friend as she stroked the boxer's fur, her shoulders bounced in a shrug. "I don't know what I can do about it. I mean, I'd _like_ to help, but there's not much I can actually do."

"You can talk to them? The workers, I mean. In the kitchen?" Elliot looked at her; his face was hopeful. "I... might've told them you would speak to them." When Sabrina gave him a look, he chuckled nervously, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "They were arguing! I panicked."

Sabrina shook her head with a little laugh of her own. "It's okay. I'll talk with them. It's fine." She hated knowing there was unrest in the castle. She'd felt it. Jasper often said it was like she had some sixth sense, that her perception for discontent around her was bordering upon the bizarre. When she looked to Elliot and saw him shifting on his feet, she grinned. "What? Do you want me to hold your haaand? Did the mean kitchen ladies scare you?"

Brown eyes narrowed at her, but she could see a bright pink flush creep up his cheeks. "Shut up."

When she extended her hand to him, he made a face at it. "Oh, come on, you big baby. Aren't you going to escort the princess to the kitchens?" Five digits wriggled at him, and Hammer gave a boisterous bark at her hip. The two ladies stared at him expectantly.

"You don't want me to escort you," Elliot mumbled, his soft hand slipping into hers. "You just want to drag me around."

"And I am a princess and you're just a boy, I expect you to _like it_."

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Yes, your Highness."

Sabrina gave an unladylike snort of laughter before gripping at his hand. The gardens weren't particularly difficult to navigate, but she liked to take her time getting from one place to another. She stopped in front of Maxwell for another attempt at his Secret Handshake, finishing it with a shaky mastery of the movements only to have the nobleman look pointedly from her to Elliot and back again. Either he didn't find El worthy of knowing the handshake or he was chuffed to see them holding hands.

Considering the way the people parted around them with quiet, pleasant murmurs, it was probably the latter. No, it was _definitely_ the latter. When they finally broke free of the men and women milling around the gardens with nothing better to do, she looked at Elliot.

"I didn't say a word," he said, free hand held up defensively. "Whatever they're thinking, they're doing it by themselves."

"Oh! No, I wasn't blaming you. It was more of a 'I-can't-believe-they-assume-I'm-attached-to-you' way."

Elliot's chest puffed out a little. "Would that be such a surprise?"

"Uh, yeah," Sabrina giggled, "And don't pretend it wouldn't be. If anybody in the castle knows that best, it's you. And maybe Jasper."

"You're right." Her friend heaved a sigh as she let go of his hand. "Of course you're right. To love a woman whose heart belongs to another, doomed to watch her reach for something beyond her grasp and fall short time and time again. It's heart-breaking, Sab. It really is."

He gave a little sound of offense when she smacked him – hard – on the arm. "Don't you even start," she said, pointing a skinny index at him. "It's not _beyond my grasp _nor do I keep falling short." She paused, her cheeks flushing a mottled red color. Huffing, she prodded at his arm again, this time with the pointed finger. "And you don't _love_ me. You're just being an ass."

"You caught me," he laughed, rubbing at his upper arm. "But why'd you have to hit me?"

Sabrina's jaw worked a little. "I didn't hit you that hard."

"So defensive."

"Right. Going talk to the staff now before I feel compelled to hit you again." Despite her words, he could hear amusement tread deeply into her voice, and he caught a twist of a smile in the corner of her mouth before she turned around and stalked off. Her strides were a lot longer than his due to her impressive height, but he caught up to her easily, as she wasn't in much of a hurry to face the men and women in the kitchen.

Before they made it through the doorway, however, he nearly rammed into her when she stopped short. Holding her finger up to her lips, she waved her arm at him, a sign to be quiet and make himself as invisible as possible. The servants were arguing again, but this time they sounded even more desperate.

In between the cacophony of voices, she only heard a handful of clear sentences.

"– innocent! All he did was stand up for a child –"

"He should've known better!"

"– nothing wrong with helping kids –"

"– say there's something wrong if you get a bullet for it!"

The moment Sabrina stepped into the room, she could hear mouths snap shut. The head cook hadn't even had time enough to shout for them to be quiet. They all stared at her, their sharpened gazes softening before the lot of them bent in a bow or curtsey. "Begging your pardon, your Highness," the head cook began, dipping down at the waist before popping back up. "Master Elliot told us that you would be visiting, but we weren't sure when."

"I'm sorry for intruding," she said with a little, apologetic smile. Before the man standing before her, dusted in a light powder of flour, was able to speak, she continued, moving forward until she was very nearly pressed against the table in the very center of the room. "I'm also very, _very_ sorry for what's happened. While I do not know the full story, I know enough to be aware that what happened was inexcusable."

The men and women standing around the table ceased their work. Elliot stepped up beside her. "There isn't much I can do in my current situation. My brother is the king; he holds all of the authority. But I _can_ speak to him. I can at least try to point out what's happening. Maybe it will help. I... hope it does." Her fingertips brushed over the roughly hewn tabletop, careful enough not to pick up any splinters. "Know, at the very least, that there is someone with your best interests at heart. I'll try to do the best I can."

While it wasn't exactly the most rousing speech any of them had ever heard, they found themselves nodding, eager to believe that their princess would reach out to Logan with their interests at heart. They knew that she would not lie to them; not so blatantly. She might have been timid, but she had her feet planted firmly on the ground, unlike what they would have expected from one of her status.

Without a word, they all turned back to their work. A visiting dignitary from Samarkand would be arriving in the afternoon in time for dinner, and they had much to prepare for.

Just as she was about to take her leave, she heard footsteps to her left. Heavy, solid footsteps. Looking away from the head cook, she turned just as a familiar form crowded the doorway, barely able to keep her heart from leaping into her throat as it always did when she recognized him.

"Huh, well, I can't say that would've inspired a battalion of soldiers," Walter began, crossing his arms over his chest. "But for the kitchen staff? That's precisely what they needed to hear. And you didn't shout at them once! Looks like Logan could stand to take a lesson from the princess."

Sabrina might've been able to keep her heart in her chest, but failed utterly in trying to mask a smile. The little thrill that ran through her every time Walter complimented her was a nasty little bugger, one she couldn't grab onto to save her life. It was trying to grasp onto a slippery rogue of a soap bar. Her cheeks twitched as the smile widened to something even toothier, eyes falling to the floor as she struggled to get a hold of herself. Finally, she cleared her throat and looked up at him, a shadow of the smile still curving the corners of her mouth.

Her constantly roving gaze met with that of a guard standing near the door. His eavesdropping was so obvious he might've had better luck holding his hand to his ear and standing a foot away from her. She was well aware of her brother's cloying paranoia, but the fact that he considered her as a possible threat was ridiculous. What could she possibly gain from attempting to overthrow him? She wasn't interested in those sorts of liabilities. She was perfectly content in waiting until her ascent to the throne was _necessary_. If Logan married as his advisors continuously advised and his wife bore a child, she need never worry about it. Looking back to Walter, she pitched her voice a bit louder to make extra sure that the guard was able to hear her. "I don't think that's necessary. He's, uh, doing a fine job."

Walter laughed at that, a hearty sound from the depths of his stomach. "Right you are, I suppose," he replied, giving the guard a look stern enough to cause the fully armed man to step back, out of the kitchen. Hooking a hand around the belts crossing his chest, he arched his back, chest rocking forward. "Ready for today's lesson?"

"Of course!" At her reply, Walter turned around and began trekking up the stairwell. Turning to Elliot, she gave him a small smile. "Stay out of trouble, will you?" She was halfway to the stairs before she turned around again, index held high in the air. The staff was bustling around by now, making so much noise that she was sure Elliot and only Elliot would be able to hear her. "And don't make any more promises that I'll speak to people! You know how nervous it makes me!"

Elliot gave her a little dismissive wave, they shared a laugh, and she disappeared up the stairs.


	3. Chapter II : Disarming Walter

Val was already fidgeting.

"What is it now?" Ben asked, thick brow arching high on his forehead. "I told you it would take some time to get anywhere you might consider interesting."

She looked at him, her wide eyes blinking before she managed to shake her head. "No! It's not that. It's just... weird, I suppose, to hear about my mother like that. I never realized she was that timid. I've only ever known her as a queen."

"That's the point of this story, isn't it? To tell you about your mother, to show you that she hasn't always been the woman she is now?"

Biting down on her bottom lip, the princess nodded. "Yes. You're right." Her chin tilted down only to move upwards to look at him again. "Mother's never said anything about an Elliot. They sound like good friends from what you've told me so far. What happened to him?" Her voice softened to a near-whisper. "Did he die in the revolution?"

Ben chuckled. "Avo save me. You're the least patient person in Albion."

"Well? Did he?"

"I'm _getting_ there, Val. His fate will remain unmentioned for quite some time."

"So he doesn't."

There was a faint smack the moment Ben's palm met his forehead. He was used to telling stories. In fact, storytelling was one of his favorite things to do to pass the time. He had years upon years of experience as well as years upon years of potential fodder for said stories. Telling the daughter of the queen in detail what her mother was like before ascending to the throne, however, was another beast entirely. "I haven't confirmed or denied that," he mumbled, the sound muffled by the heel of his palm. "And would very much appreciate it if you ceased making wild guesses and let me finish."

"Alright. I'll let you finish, but don't leave me hanging." She stared at him. Her words were clearly not in jest. In fact, he'd never seen her more serious about anything in her entire life. What was the fun in a story without any cliffhangers? He loved them. The feeling one got from leaving someone on the edge of a held breath, gaping at them, waiting for them to continue only to be told the story would continue later. He watched as twin nostrils flared. "I don't _like_ being left hanging."

"I'm afraid that's inevitable, princess. There's not a story in all those you've read with as much hanging as this one. That was... figurative. I don't recall Sabrina ever telling me about being forced to – oh, wait, there was that time..."

Val sat up a bit straighter, though her expression skewed to something annoyed when Ben's thin line of a mouth cracked into a smile that cracked further into a laugh. "You're an easy mark, Val. I expected more from you."

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the column.

* * *

"Walter?"

Her mentor didn't slow his ascent up the stairs to answer her, his boots continuing to make a distinct _clop, clop_ on the wooden steps. "Hmm?"

She struggled to catch up with him. Her hand trailed along the railing, chin tilting up to look at him. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to ask him for the truth. Not about this. Then again, part of her felt as though she already knew it. "Are the rumors true? I heard the staff say something about a man being executed. For protecting a child, no less. Are things in the factories _that bad_? I know that people are often given to gossiping. That's why I ask."

Sir Walter stopped, propping his foot up on the next step and looking down at her. His brow was creased, furrowing a ripple of deep lines in his forehead. "Unfortunately, they are." He huffed his evident displeasure. "And this particular rumor wasn't blown out of proportion, either. I'm afraid it was entirely true."

Sabrina's mouth fell open. "That's horrible! He was protecting a _child_."

While she knew conditions in Bowerstone Industrial left something to be desired in a very large, very urgent way, who in their right mind would murder a man for trying to help a child? Either they were cruel to the very heart or they were not parents themselves. Even she, a girl of nineteen, knew that there was nothing worse than seeing a child suffer, and she'd never even considered having one.

"You know as well as anyone that age doesn't separate one group of people from another, not these days. It's a bloody shame, but that's how things are." When he saw her mouth close, the corners turning downward, he amended his statement. "I don't condone it, of course, but there's little an old soldier can do, hm?"

At that, he turned and continued up the stairs, slower this time. It wasn't until he mounted the top, glancing over his shoulder to watch her as she did the same, that he finished his thought. "Not like a princess."

Shuffling with the layers of her skirt, she looked up at him, orange-red eyebrow cocked high on her forehead. "Are you saying that I could stop all of this from happening? Right under Logan's nose?" She shook her head, starting out in the direction of their training room. "I don't think so. You heard me back there. A mute would have a better job persuading people they're safe."

"That's not what I heard," was Sir Walter's gruff response. There was an air of pride in his words. When coupled with the warmth that always crept into his voice when he spoke to her, she felt a heat bloom at the very center of her person. Of course, this was curtailed by a flush spreading over her cheeks. Untucking her hair from behind her ear, she let it fall in front of her face, blushing an even brighter shade of red at her ridiculous embarrassment. "I heard a princess with genuine concern for her people. You don't have a way with words like your brother, but you have heart. That's what this country needs."

Her hands wrung before her. "This country _needs... _I don't know what this country needs." Swallowing back the cloying shyness that always overcame her when they were alone, she looked up at him again, her walk slowing as they neared the door leading into the chamber outside of the hallway. "My mother, perhaps; a Hero."

She saw something in his eyes, and she was overcome by the sensation that he was about to say something when he pushed the door open. Their ears were filled with the sounds of those gathered, people from Bowerstone Industrial by the streaks of soot on their clothes and their shouts of poverty and starvation. One in particular stood near the front of the crowd, something held in the hand he waved high in the air.

"Sir Beck! Please, Sir Beck!"

Clearly curious, the knight's gait lengthened as he strode in the man's direction. It wasn't odd to find an assembly of people waiting to see her brother, but they weren't often spoken to themselves. Most of them weren't even aware she was the princess, if only because Logan didn't call much attention to her very often. Albion still remembered her as the little ginger princess clutching at her mother's skirts. "Hm? Do you need something?"

The man fumbled with the paper in his hands despite it being held tight against the board it rested upon. "I apologize for the interruption, but I wanted to ask you if you could sign my petition. My name's Laszlo. I'm here to speak to Logan, but my petition could use more signatures, especially from someone as noteworthy as you! The poverty that's taking over Bowerstone Industrial _has_ to stop. Some mothers, like Vera here –" the woman, who they assumed was Vera, nodded, lifting her hand meekly, "– can hardly afford to feed her little boy. We tried to bring him, but the guards wouldn't let him in. M'afraid he's all skin and bones, sir." His eyes went to Sabrina for no longer than a moment before looking back to Walter with an entreating gaze.

"I'll sign, but a lot of good it'll do you." Taking the man's pen, he signed his dark scratch of a signature. When he was satisfied, he handed him the pen. "I don't nearly have as much clout as you seem to think. The princess, however..."

"By the gods, this is Princess Sabrina?"

A ripple of gasps ran through the crowd. Sabrina blushed again, this time all the way up to her hair.

"That it is," Walter confirmed with a low chuckle. "If you persuade her to –"

"Hand me the pen." Her voice was little more than a quiet squeak, but she stepped forward on a firm foot, holding out her hand. Laszlo grinned and gave it to her, unable to keep himself from giving a little trill of excitement. "I shall sign it. The men, women, and children of Bowerstone Industrial need help. That much is obvious. I'd like... to extend my own attempts at assistance. In whatever small way I can."

Bending her head over the petition, her eyes skimmed over the words. Starvation, adjective, adjective, poverty, comment about how difficult it is to find cheese, entreaties for Logan's help, blah, blah. Huffing quietly, Sabrina blew her hair out of her eyes and signed her name with a flourish. Walter, who'd been watching over her shoulder, pursed his lips in an impressed expression.

"Thank you, your Highness. Thank you so, so very much."

Some small part of her shouted, very loudly, that this was a Very Bad Idea. She knew this was the logical part of her brain, but was eager to push it away. If she could help these people, she would do so, even if it wouldn't endear her brother to her in any way. Despite her seemingly static standpoint on signing the petition, her hands are shaking as they turn away. The blush flooded from her cheeks, leaving her pale and quiet the moment Walter opened the door to lead them into the training room.

"– a courageous move, princess." He was speaking when she shook herself out of her thoughts. She watched him cross the room to stand by the rack of swords. "It'll show Logan – and whoever else sees that petition – that you've a mind of your own. Not that I considered the opposite." The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a small smile, his mustache nearly twitching. "I'm not going to say that only good will come of it, but it's a damned decent start."

Before she could explain herself, he offered her the rack with a gesture of his hand. "Now, grab a sword. I want you to fight me."

"I always _fight_ you when we're training." She eyed him suspiciously as she moved over to the weapons he motioned to. That was certainly an odd request. Had she ever sparred with him without actually fighting him? Lifting the slender arming sword from the rack with both hands, she swished it back and forth experimentally. "That's the point, isn't it?"

Walter chuckled, grabbing for his own sword. They were both the same size in length and weight, but he lifted his as if it were no more impressive than a toothpick. "That's not what I meant." Lifting the sword, he balanced it on his shoulder and stepped back, nearer to the fire that warmed the room. "I meant that I want you to _really_ fight me. Like your life depends on it. I don't want a spar; I want to see what you're really made of."

"You know I don't like fighting with swo – whoa!" He struck out at her, forcing her to pull her sword up high enough to parry the blow. The sword deflected with a loud, metallic clang. Sabrina stumbled to the side on her heels, one hand grabbing at her skirts while the other held the blade limply at her side. It took her a moment to regain her composure, uttering a quiet whimper at his sudden attack.

"Now, what is this? Some new dance your blasted instructor's trying to shove down your throat?"

He couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. Not only had he very nearly killed her, but now he was mocking her. "You know as well as I do that I can't fight in all these petticoats! And heels, at that!" She gathered her dress, shoulders hefted upwards. "This isn't fair!"

Before she was able to finish her sentence, he struck out again, barely leaving her time to drop her skirts and lift her sword. The blow nearly forced her off of her feet. Grumbling, she kicked off her shoes with previously absent gusto, barely avoiding putting one through a window. Next, she dropped her sword at her feet and brought her petticoats up to tuck them into the waist of her skirt. This gave her feet enough room to move. She bent, grabbing her sword, and held it out in front of her with both hands.

"Is that better now, princess?"

She struck out at him, though the sword wobbled and was deflected easily. In her defense, she was sparring with a well-trained, veteran knight of the Royal Army. Clenching her jaw, she bent her knees a little, her tiny hands grasping at the sword's grip. "Not much, but you're asking a lot of me here."

"Do you remember the stories I told you when you were a child?" he asked, lifting his sword's grip and pointing the blade downward to parry another of her blows. This one wasn't much stronger, but it was quicker. If she could rely on anything, it would be her speed. When she went to strike out at him again, he blocked it, forcing his sword down upon hers.

"Is now the time to bring that up?" she replied with a grunt as she forced his sword back. "You told me I should fight you. Stop _distracting me_."

Walter laughed at that, and she took that opportunity to lash out at him again. The tip of the blade just barely scraped against the belt over his chest as he hefted himself backwards. "It's relevant." Holding his sword up, he stepped to the side to avoid another, clumsier slash. "Do you remember what you would say when I was done?"

Finally biting, Sabrina stood still. "I wanted you to teach me to be a Hero, but that's not very good, is it?" Her sword hung limply in one hand. She attempted to lift it, only serving to prove her point when the thing refused to do as she wished, impacting the ground with a hollow thunk after hovering in the air for no more than a moment. "There's no way I could be a Hero, even if you did try to teach me."

She watched him as he shook his head. "You're wrong. You _could_ be a Hero." He didn't budge when she stared up at him, seemingly offended he would even go against what she'd just said. She knew it was the truth. No matter how long they spent in this room, she never felt any stronger. She was good at lots of things, but those things were softer and certainly more _mild_. The only destructive thing she was good at was shooting, and Walter wasn't as sweet on targets if they weren't moving. And capable of bruising. "I want you to prove it to yourself."

"And just how am I supposed to do that?" she asked him, hand falling to her hip. There were few times in her life when she'd ever given Walter an attitude, but she had no other choice, not when he was looking down at her with all the glowing pride of a man who had clearly dipped into the kitchen's ale stores far earlier than he should.

Walter, however, seemed oblivious to her assumptions. "Strike at me with all that you have." He lowered himself a little, bent elbows held at his waist and sword held in front of him. "I want you to forget who I am and just... _hit me_."

"I don't _understand_, Walter." Her shoulders bounced in a shrug. "Why are you asking me to do this?"

"Stop thinking about the details and hit me!" Her brows nearly hit her hairline, and she lifted a hand to rub at her forehead. When she looked back at Walter, his postured had straightened. "Sabrina, you have to trust me."

"I do trust you," she pressed.

"Then hit me. Try, at the very least."

"You know what? Fine." Sighing, she gathered herself up and pulled her shoulders back to her full height, a mere head shorter than her mentor. "But if I hit you and pull something, it'll be your fault. Then I'll have to sit in my room all day until I recuperate. You'll miss me." Her voice dropped into a murmur, and it was obvious, at least to her, that she meant the opposite.

When he didn't move, accepting that she was ready to give it her best shot, she drew her sword up. She took a breath and then another. Using her stockings on the slick floor to assist her, she spun and shut her eyes, silently praying to whoever would hear her that she wouldn't _actually_ hurt him. Her sword impacted his loudly, and she cringed as she slowed to a stop. Somewhere not far off, she heard the tell-tale sound of a blade hitting the floor and skittering to a halt many feet away.

She slowly opened her eyes to see Walter standing there, his wide. Her stare dropped to his hands to find they were completely empty, and his sword now lay on the ground on very nearly the opposite side of the room. Looking back at him from the sword, she swallowed, her eyelid twitching.

They remained in almost complete silence for a moment more before he broke into a peal of loud laughter. "Well now! Look at that! I haven't been disarmed since I was your age!" Even from beneath the wiry salt and pepper canopy of his mustache she could see him crack into a wide smile. She returned it, albeit weakly. "Am I a great teacher or what?"

"You're insane," Sabrina whimpered, letting her sword clatter onto the floor. "You're _utterly insane_."

She had only just begun to laugh when the doors at the far end of the room flew open, jerking their attention towards a red-faced Elliot. He planted his hands on his knees, looking up at them as he tried to catch his breath.

"Sabrina! Walter! You have to hurry!"

* * *

**A/N:** Woosh! Sorry it took a whole two days to update. I've been playing a lot lately and I kicked back to take a day off. I do, however, have the next chapter already halfway written, so you should expect that very soon. Also, I'd like to point out that I'm actually writing "Never Did Run Smooth" for NaNoWriMo (or, as I affectionately refer to it, NaFicWriMo this year), so I'm hoping to get a lot written in a very small amount of time. That said, your reviews really do help me keep up the pace. So if any of you are reading this now, thank you. And those who don't review? I really do hope you enjoy it! I hope EVERYONE enjoys it; I'm having a blasty blast writing it despite the fact that I actually had to split this chapter in two because it had _too much freakin' dialogue_.

Also, my friend writes fic of her own and has decided to make up a rewards system to keep me writing. For every 10k words I write, she's going to write a oneshot based around Ben Finn. He's my second favorite, after all, and it's a perfect motivator to keep me up and at 'em. So keep an eye out for her works! Her username on FFnet is Servant of Nature.

Cheerio! And thank you all again! (There would normally be a heart here, but ffnet eats hearts.)


	4. Chapter III : Logan's Evaluation

"What!" Valerie's eyes widened, her hand shooting out to grab Ben's sleeve as he went to stand. "No! You can't stop it _there_." He stood to his full height and looked at her with an arched, expectant brow. "Where are you going? You have to tell me what was wrong."

The general grinned, lifting a hand to hers to unwrap her fingers from his jacket. "I'm thirsty. I've been talking for a while, you know. It happens."

"But –" He took a step away from her, and she shot onto her feet, following behind him like a pup. "But you can still talk, can't you? You can still tell the story?" She sniffed at her own eagerness – a habit she got from her mother; Sabrina often did such when she didn't know what to say – before lengthening her strides to catch up with him. "I'm interested in hearing what's happened."

"Oh?" Ben asked, coming to stand in front of the table lined with both food and drink. He lifted up one of the hors d'œuvres and popped it into his mouth, making a quiet, impressed sound before grabbing another. Once he could speak again, he looked at her, grabbing a glass of wine with his other hand. Lifting it to his mouth, he took a long drink from it. "And why would that be, then? Are you finally willing to admit my supreme prowess as a storyteller?"

Val snorted and reached for a glass herself only to have Ben stuff his mouth with the deviled egg and smack her on the back of the hand. Pulling it back, she glared openly at him. "No," she replied. "Relying on a cliffhanger is a sign of _shoddy _storytelling. It's a hapless trick for those who can't keep a reader – or, in your case, a listener – ensnared without withholding information."

"You know how I told you that you were mean?" Leaning his hip against the table, he looked at her, goblet in hand. She stared right back with an unimpressed expression on her face. "I was wrong." Taking a sip, he looked at her over the pewter rim. "You're just plain evil."

"And now you're going to finish telling me the story, right? Before I lose interest altogether?"

"I won't be able to finish the story tonight, Val," he muttered, turning around to sit down on the bench a second time. "I can't compress five years of your mother's life into an afternoon. It wouldn't do her justice."

Val sat down next to him, this time toeing off her slippers and pulling her feet up onto the bench. Sitting cross-legged was much more comfortable. "How long will it take? You're supposed to be marching to Bloodstone in a few weeks. Will you be finished by then?"

A thoughtful look overcame the man's face. "Hm. I'm not sure. I hope that is the case. If not, you'll be forced to wait. Or find someone else to bridge the gap until I've returned. I shouldn't be gone for very long."

"But... who else would know?"

"You could always try to ask Reaver..." The corner of his mouth sloped downward in a frown, but he laughed all the same – a rough, grating sound unlike his usual laughter. "Maybe that's not the _best_ of ideas. Do you think you'll be able to wait for me to return? Or should I break out the pen and paper again?"

Val held up a hand. "Wait, why shouldn't I ask Reaver?" She tilted her head to the side, letting her hand drop back onto her lap. "I realize he doesn't have the most spotless reputation, but he's eloquent and seems to be a competent storyteller."

"Yeah, he is," Ben agreed, taking a moment to contemplate his next words. "If you want to hear about _his_ life story. He'll tell you about his, ah, conquests without a moment's hesitation. Which is why I'd rather you not ask him about your mother. She doesn't... interest him. You'd end up hearing about orgies and murder for hours on end."

When Val's face brightened a little, his fingers twitched, fighting the urge to smash himself in the face. Bloody tongue, wagging off like that.

"Just... forget I said that. Let's continue with this story, hm?"

* * *

"Sabrina! Walter! Come quickly!"

Walter started forward, his hand instinctively falling to the sword sheathed at his hip. "What is it, boy?"

Elliot's chest heaved, cheeks puffing as he attempted to catch his breath. This was a feat in itself for the flushed boy, and when next he spoke, it was still not in his grasp. "There's a demonstration, and it's just inside the castle grounds!"

Sabrina's eyes flicked to her mentor. She could see him listening; concentrating. She followed suit, straining to hear whatever she could. Even above the background noise of the castle, she could hear the faint sounds of shouting through the walls. The voices were so many they merged into a single, wordless rumble. It was the sound of an approaching storm – a metaphor she would not understand to be true until much later.

"They looked like laborers. I think it was the same group that was waiting for an audience with Logan." Elliot straightened himself, gulping back one final breath before he was able to calm. "We have to do something!"

Walter pushed past him, face skewed in determination. Elliot looked to Sabrina, who scurried across the room to grab her shoes and put them back on. "What _exactly_ were you two doing in here?" he asked, motioning with a sad attempt at a smile towards her petticoats. They were still tucked into the waist of her skirt, and she flushed, pulling them out and smoothing them downward.

"Sparring," she murmured, hurrying across the room to grab onto Elliot's extended hand. "He keeps talking about my mother. About Heroes. I don't understand what he's getting at."

Elliot began near-pulling her down the hallway in Walter's wake, just far enough behind the man's impressive strides to not be overheard. "Maybe you're a Hero like your mother," he said as he threaded his fingers through hers, giving her arm a little tug. "And don't give me that look. It's possible."

"No, it's not," Sabrina huffed in response. "If anyone would have inherited that from my mother, it would be Logan. He's the king, after all. I'm not even Hero material." She sighed, pulling her hand out of his and hurrying to catch up on her own. "Why are we even talking about this?"

"You're the one who mentioned it."

Sabrina hefted her shoulders up a little. "Well, let's... figure out what's going on. That's important."

Elliot accepted her motion and kept his lips sealed, leaving them in silence for no longer than a moment as they reached the assembly room shortly after. They saw Walter standing at one of the room's tall windows, brow furrowed. "Looks like you were right, Elliot. They're laborers, and there's quite a lot of them."

The princess rushed over to the window, coming to a stop just beside Walter. He was correct. There _was _quite a lot of them. She recognized the brunette man from earlier – Mister Laszlo – standing near the very front of the crowd. He was being jostled bodily by one of the royal guards before being thrust back onto the ground out of frustration. Sabrina looked to him, her brows pinching upwards in concern. "You... y-you don't think this is because I signed the petition, do you?"

"It's feasible," Walter breathed, his eyes still glued on the happenings outside the window. "They might see your agreement as a jumping point for something far larger... but they don't have the numbers to prove anything." The turned his face to look down at her. "I have to speak to Logan. Maybe I can talk some sense into him." He reached out to rest a large hand on Sabrina's shoulder. "I have something we need to talk about, but that'll be later. Until then."

With a nod, he turned and made his way up the stairs. Elliot eyed him as he ascended, turning to Sabrina with an eyebrow cocked despite the worry on his face.

She waved him off with a flick of her wrist, and he nodded. He was content with his curiosity. There were larger problems at hand anyway. "We need to do something," he began, stepping up beside her at the window. His fists rested on the sill, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "Walter may be able to talk to Logan, but who knows? He might be in trouble. Logan's dangerous when it comes to these sorts of things."

That was all it took to pull Sabrina away from the window, her hand gripping at his jacket's sleeve to pull him after her. "You don't think he's actually in danger, do you?" she asked, twisting her waist just enough to look at him as she began her climb.

"Maybe... I hope not, but it's possible." He watched as Sabrina sniffed and tilted her chin to look up the stairs. He absolutely _hated_ it when she did that. It either meant she didn't think his comment was worthy of a response or she just didn't know what to say. In this case, it was most certainly the former. Elliot hefted his shoulders a little, quickening his ascent to catch up with her. "They must be in the War Room."

"Then _hurry_. Let's get there before anyone sees us." As she mounted the top of the staircase, she poked her head around the corner. Logan's guards were nowhere to be found; most of them were forced outside to deal with the protesters. "We should be able to-"

Elliot hurried out in front of her, going to a knee in front of the doors leading into the War Room. It was the one room in the castle he'd only ever seen from a distance. He'd never been inside of the walls, and, to his knowledge, neither had Sabrina. He shut one eye and squinted the other, trying to see as much as he possibly could through the tiny keyhole.

"Over here," he whispered, waving to Sabrina. "You can see them."

Sabrina moved over to him, though she eyed the keyhole suspiciously. For all of her life, she'd learn through her own slip-ups not to tread upon her brother's toes. And as king, she quickly learned that she needn't mind only his toes, but every word that left her mouth. Loose talk only led to her inciting someone _else_ to step on his toes. She also became quickly aware of his need for privacy. Spying on him would not endear her to him any more than accidentally inciting a demonstration did.

Finally, she swallowed back the hint of bile that rose in her throat and knelt down. She could see Logan and Walter, a few guards, but very little else. The first thing she noticed was that Logan stood to the side while the royal guards clustered around her mentor, a sight that twisted her stomach. Her hand instinctively went for the doorknob, but she felt Elliot's hand clutch at her wrist, guiding her away.

Walter stepped forward only to receive a nudge in his stomach from the butt of a guard's rifle. "Logan, think of what you're doing." There was a hint of pleading in his voice – a sound she only very rarely heard out of his mouth.

"What I'm doing?" Logan snapped back, his eyes narrowing. "I'm protecting the peoples' interests. Do not question me again." He turned his sights to the guards. "Shoot to kill. You will start with the ringleaders, and if necessary..." Taking a breath, he released it slowly. "Continue with the crowd."

"This is wrong!" A single step forward for Sir Walter, and the guard in front of him jammed the butt of his rifle beneath his ribs. Elliot could feel Sabrina go rigid beside him. "You can't do this!"

The guard behind him forced his gun into the back of Walter's knee, sending him falling to the ground. No sooner had Logan begun to spit out a threat, Sabrina gripped the door handle and rose to her feet, thrusting it open and staggering forward.

Walter stared at her, eyes wide, as Logan turned his attention seamlessly toward her. "What are you doing here, sister? The War Room is no place for a child." His gaze left Sabrina to fall upon Walter, realization dawning over his features. She suppressed a shudder when her brother's eyes turned on her again. "Leave. _Now_."

"I—" Sabrina pulled her shoulders back, chin tilting upwards in a show of forced pride. "I'm here to stop you! You can't kill those people!"

Just out of the corner of her eye, she could see Walter reach out to her as if he could stop the words from leaving her throat. "No. Wait."

Logan's hand cut the air downwards in an emphatic gesture. "Enough." Stepping to stand between the princess and Sir Walter, his voice turned quiet. Even the change in volume wasn't able to soften the hardened edge of his words. "I can scarcely believe it. My timid little sister – my own blood – dares turn against me." His constantly furrowed brow arched farther. "Perhaps you believe _you_ should be the one making these decisions."

She looked away from him, desperate to find Walter's face for some guidance, but Logan was standing in the way. All her sights caught was the face of the guard who'd been standing outside of the kitchens earlier. A single thought formed in her mind: _oh gods..._

"If you really wish to defend those traitors," Logan continued, "then so be it."

Lifting his gloved hand into the air, he clenched it into a fist, a sign for the two guards who'd come up behind them to step up and grab both her and Elliot. "Let's see how well you do." Cold blue eyes snapped to the guards over their shoulders. "Take my sister and her friend to the throne room. We shall settle this matter officially."

"If you really wish to defend those traitors, then so be it."

His hand lifts into the air, clenching into a fist, a sign for two guards to step up behind her and Elliot, grabbing them. "Let us see how you do." Looks to the guards. "Take my sister and her friend to the throne room. We shall settle this matter officially."

On the way to the throne room, Elliot found that he couldn't be bothered to be quiet. His heart was racing, and his arms were already aching where the guard was clutching him far too hard. And this had all come to past because Sabrina couldn't stand to watch while anything happened to Walter. He shuffled his feet, earning him a nudge between the shoulders from the guard's armored elbow. "Did you _really_ have to do that, Sab?"

"He was going to –" She struggled in the guard's grasp. He was holding her even tighter than the man was holding him; it was obvious in her skewed expression. "You're hurting me!" The guard remained unphased. If anything, he tightened his hand around her upper arm. Realizing she would get nowhere with him, she looked to Elliot. Her eyes were sad. "He was going to have innocent people killed! I had to stop him!"

Elliot huffed. "You didn't do that for those people, and you know it," he muttered, jerking a little in the guard's clutches. "I only hope that if my well-being is ever threatened, you'll do something heroic like that and save _me_. Though I should be so lucky."

Every part of him ignored the way her eyes welled up at that, but he couldn't help but watch as she tore her arm away from the guard. "Keep your hands off me! I don't _care_ if you were given instructions by my brother!" Her voice lowered to a near-growl as she rubbed at her arm. It would bruise. "He may be the king, but I'm the _princess_, unless you've forgotten. And unhand him, as well! We can walk find on our own." For the first time in ages, she openly glared at Elliot. "I did do it for them. I won't stand by to see people killed just for speaking their mind."

Looking towards the guards, they appeared to be more surprised than afraid, as if taken aback by the princess' show. Anyone who knew her knew that she didn't have the stomach for giving orders, and she _never_ used her being the princess to get what she wanted.

"You only intervened because those guards were manhandling Walter."

Sabrina shook her head. "I would've said something no matter what."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. Before she was able to respond, the door opened, and they were thrust into the throne room. While the man standing behind Sabrina merely nudged her forward, Elliot is propelled a few feet in front of her. "Get on with it!"

"I'm _going_," he spat, glaring at the guard over his shoulder.

But that wasn't good enough. When he didn't move from that spot, he was pushed onto the ground. A strangled gasp left him as the guard lowered his rifle to the back of his head. "Wh-what are you—?"

The princess fell to her knees beside him, her hands clutching at his upper arms in an attempt to get him to stand. "Leave him alone!"

"Don't worry," Elliot murmured, lifting himself up with her help. "I'm alright. I'm fine."

Once he was on his feet, her hand smoothed over the fabric of his shirt. "Don't worry." That same hand slid downward, fingers curling around his wrist. "Whatever happens, we'll get through this _together_. That's the point, right?"

Another nudge from the guards moved them both forward almost mechanically. "Keep walking!"

At the end of the long room, Logan sat on his throne, his posture slouched. A single clump of black hair fell away from the rest, resting across his forehead, and as he shifted forward, he ran his gloved hand over his head. It was as if the strands had never fallen out of place. "Ah, and here come the saviors of the people." Sabrina and Elliot were forced to stop in the middle of the room. "Come closer, sister." A slight motion of his hand drew her a few steps forward. Her shoulder was pulled backwards as Elliot grabbed onto her hand. Logan watched curiously as she gave her head a shake, and he let go.

"Today I have been disappointed beyond measure," he began again, his elbow resting on the arm of his throne. For someone so cold, her brother had a flair for the dramatic. It was no surprise that everyone hung upon his words, no matter how much they hated both the speaker and his speech. "My own blood has betrayed me. Along with her _boy_, who is no more than a filthy spy."

Elliot stepped forward only to be jerked back two steps by the guard behind him. He frowned and knitted his brows. "We did nothing wrong."

It was clear in the way Logan refused to take his eyes off of his sister that he was able to ignore Elliot in stride. Truly, the only reason he _ever_ bothered with being hospitable to the boy was due to his sister's attachment to her mentor. No matter how innocuous, it had to be stopped, and he believed for some time that Elliot would be the one to do it. He'd proven himself to be less than useless in the matter.

"Punishment..." Logan stood in one, smooth movement, "must be apportioned where it belongs."

"Then punish me instead!" Sabrina worked her jaw, hurrying forward a few steps to stand closer to him. Her movements were awkward, as was her speech, as if she'd never had to wrap her lips around such words in her entire life. Standing up for others was certainly a new trick for her. Some part of Logan was even the slightest bit impressed. Or he would have been if her graceless delivery didn't serve only to highlight her ineptitude.

Logan stepped down from the throne, shaking his head. "It is time I stopped treating you as a child, Sabrina, as you have made it clear to me that you no longer believe yourself to be one." When he descended the last step, he continued walking towards her. "This morning, traitors gathered outside of the castle, and you wish to save them. You now have your chance."

She eyed him, unsure of what he meant. Beside the throne stood Walter, looking crestfallen in a way she'd never seen before. His eyes remained glued to Logan's back, but his expression was one of clear distress. Her attention then turned to the men and women gathered at her right. A woman is held in the arms of another, her quiet sniffling meshing into their murmurs of fear and confusion. The dark-skinned man squeezed her tighter, and she clutched at his vest.

"The leaders of the violent _mob _stand before you." He sniffed, rolling his neck in her and Elliot's direction. "I will give you a choice." Sabrina's face betrayed her own puzzlement; Logan was quick to express himself in a more concise manner. "Who will be punished? These strangers, or this boy?"

Sabrina's eyes flew open, snapping to Elliot only to see him struggling in the grasp of the guard. His face was pale, but the skin turned ashen when Logan continued. "The sentence will be death."

"What!" She rushed forward until she was a mere foot in front of him. She wasn't much shorter than he was, but the way he looked at her made her feel no more than a foot off of the ground. He was very skilled at condescension, even in the smallest of glances.

"No," she heard behind her. Elliot begged silently for her to turn and look at him, but he remained staring at her back. "This can't be."

One of Logan's slender brows arched higher. "You are the princess. Decide."

Sabrina was unable to keep her chin from quivering noticeably as her head shook. She could barely see Walter lurch forward behind Logan, her sight gone blurry. "Your Majesty! Logan! _Please_."

Again, the opposition stood ignored. Logan's focus remained entirely on Sabrina. Watching her stand before him, the future monarch of Albion, wringing her hands before her with her blue eyes gone all glassy – it was almost humorous. How could anyone be so foolish as to willingly follow her anywhere? "I am giving you power over life and death," he murmured, arms folding behind his back. "It is a common responsibility for any monarch."

She turned, her hand extending for Elliot's only to watch his be smacked down to his side by the guard next to him. When she looked back to Logan, there was an edge to her glare, a sharpness he hadn't expected. "No! I won't do this! Logan, you _can't_ make me choose."

"If you can't choose, I will." Logan motioned towards the demonstrators. "They will all be executed." His hand swished in Elliot's direction. "This boy included. So tell me, sister. What are you willing to sacrifice to do the right thing?"

The moment Sabrina's eyes closed, a tear broke free and dribbled down her flushed cheek. Behind her, she could hear Elliot nearly shouting at Logan, and before her, Walter was doing the very same. Their voices were raised louder than she'd heard from either of them in her entire life. Or was it her concentration doing this? Were they shouting, or was she pitching the volume even higher in her imagination?

"This is madness! We –"

"Logan! Don't make her choose! Not the boy!"

"- we just _can't_."

"I'll take his place. Let me."

Sabrina's shoulders shook with a sob the moment she heard Walter's voice above the din. He couldn't. Logan wouldn't let him. But the mere thought of having to choose... She could hear Elliot's comments from earlier ringing in her ears, about how she didn't care about those other people, all she cared about was their mistreatment of Walter. She fought it in the hallway, but it was true. Gods, it was so true.

Sometime between her turning away from Elliot and that moment, he struggled out of the guard's grasp and hurried over to her. She could feel his hand on her arm, his fingers gripping at her bicep. "Choose me." She looked at him then, her eyes red and still glassy, and shook her head. "You can't let them be executed. I'm _one person_. And you know they don't deserve this."

"You don't-" She choked on her tears, her face stricken. "You don't deserve it, either."

Elliot grabbed her face. His fingers slipped into her hair, and when he spoke, his voice shook. "Choose me."

She wasn't given the luxury of a reply before he's jerked away from her, the violet-clad guards pulling him forward to stand next to the demonstrators. Standing next to them, he looked so solitary, like a reminder of all that was hers and only hers in the world. The demonstrators were her people, the oppressed, citizen's of her _brother's_ country. Elliot was hers. And Logan was daring her to rid herself of him. She could see it in his face.

"There's only one choice, Sab!" Elliot's voice rose sharply. He knew what she was considering. He knew that she wanted to hold on to all that she had left besides Walter and Jasper. "You have to choose me."

Even as the men and women beside him sobbed and pleaded for the princess' mercy, she couldn't take her eyes off of her dearest friend. They'd known each other so long. Even though most might consider her spineless, she'd have never accomplished half of the things she had if not for him. If not for his being by her side, she would have never been able to stand up for Walter. She'd have been secluded. Solitary, like he was now.

"Are you listening to me? Pick _me_."

Sabrina's face twisted as she lifted her hands to cover the bottom half of it. "No!" She shook her head, orange strands tangling. "Elliot, _stop_. I _can't_."

He took a step forward, brows pinching together. "You must! If you don't decide, Logan will kill us all."

No confidence could be born from Sabrina's constantly wringing hands. Even as she failed to see anyone but Elliot, Walter glared at Logan. The king remained either ignorant or uncaring to the man's silent display. When she finally tore her eyes away from the spectacle, she looked to her brother. "Please don't make me do this! I didn't ask to be given this r-responsibility." Her eyes filled again just as her cheeks dried. "I don't want it."

"It appears you don't have a choice," Logan murmured, his nostrils flared.

"But – but it's _Elliot_."

"Indeed."

From behind him, she could just barely hear Walter's voice. "Logan, this is –"

"I will _not_ tolerate your intrusions, Walter." All it took was a sharp word and a glare from the king to silence her mentor. "The princess is making a decision."

Sabrina couldn't believe this. She knew that her brother was prone to cruelty. She'd heard nightmarish stories about how he'd left Aurora behind, about promises broken not only to the Auroran people but to his own. Still, she'd always felt she was immune to this madness. She was his _sister_, his own flesh and blood, and this was no more than an unconventional sort of torture.

"Why are you doing this to me? Elliot is my –"

"Is this your answer, sister?" he asked. His voice was crisp and surprisingly casual. Sabrina's stomach churned at the sound. "Are you going to spare your childhood friend as opposed to the lives of three supposedly _innocent_ people?"

She could see the men and women shift nervously out of the corner of her eye. What sort of princess would she be to _allow_ her brother to do this to his people? What sort of _person_ would she be? The thoughts spun in her head, turning around and around, winding so tight that she nearly shattered at the sound of a tremulous, watery, "Please! Please, no!"

Her feet carried her without a thought, bringing her to Elliot, and she buried her face into the soft fabric of his vest. In one fell swoop, she was able to show her people what sort of princess – what sort of person – she was.

She was a coward.

"The boy lives. Kill the rest now."

Every muscle in her body went stiff. She didn't know what to do. Had she even heard him correctly? Lifting her face from Elliot's vest, entirely unaware of his stolid expression, she turned to look at Logan. "I didn't – this wasn't – my decision wasn't made! I didn't make my choice!"

The guards reached for the ringleaders without another word. Logan turned on his heel and began to make his way back to the throne, though he stopped no more than a step later. All she could see was his profile, and the thin line of a tiny smile in the corner of his mouth. "You were clear enough."

"Please, ma'am!" One of the demonstrators caught her attention – a woman with blonde pigtails and a tear-streaked face. "Don't let them do this! I have a – a ch-child! A little boy! You can't let them –"

The end of a rifle knocked her between the shoulders, both shutting her up and pushing her forward.

Elliot stepped back without a word, his shaking hands removing hers from his clothes. When she looked at him, she could see the corners of his mouth turned downward. She moved to grip at his vest again, a pleading expression on her face, but he pulled away. The stinging slap of rejection sent her moving towards her brother, a quivering index finger pointing in his direction. "You... I can't believe you." She sniffed back her tears, her eyes flaming in a way he'd never seen. "I will _never_ forgive you for this."

"Good. Then you will never forget it." The king's icy stare flicked to the remaining guards. "Escort my sister to her chambers."

The princess was nearly lifted from her feet, though she settled back on them soon after. She cast one more look around the room before she was hauled out of the door. Elliot stood by himself, one arm bent and rubbing the other, brown hair shadowing most of his face. Walter stood beside the throne, staring after her, his hand moving to rest on the sword at his hip.

And Logan sat on his throne, his scholar's slouch returning the moment he was at rest. He looked bored.


	5. Chapter IV : Theresa

When Ben paused and looked at Val, she was staring at the floor, her brows kitted together above her stubbed nose. "Is there something wrong, princess?"

"I don't get it," she murmured, glancing up at him. A bit of brown hair fell into her eye, and she quickly pushed it away. "I understand my mother's shyness. Even I was shy once upon a time. But... hiding? Bursting into tears in the throne room? It doesn't sound like her."

"Did you know your mother when she was a teenager?"

Val looked at him askance. "Of course not."

"Then how do you know it doesn't sound like her?" Ben smiled to himself. "People change, Val, and they change often. After what your mother's been through with the revolution and her reign, I doubt she could have remained the same person through it all."

The princess idly fingered the lace on her gown. "I can accept that," she replied, "but why hasn't she told me about Elliot? It sounds like he meant a lot to her."

Ben stretched out his legs, toes flexing in his boots. He could feel them pop in response, a warm feeling creeping up the tops of his feet just after. Gods, he was getting old. "He did from what I can reckon. You'll hear about him soon enough, I should think. That wasn't the last time your mum ran into him. Though the second time was even less pleasant, if only from Sabrina's point of view."

"Less pleasant?" Val looked to him, her already wide eyes widening even more. "I'm not entirely sure I look forward to hearing about the second time, then."

"No? But I thought you _enjoyed_ stories like that."

"I'm not a _sadist_," she quipped, pulling her legs up from the bench and holding her thighs to her chest instead. Wrapping her arms around her shins, she rested her chin on her knees. "Though, I suppose... where this story is going, I might be considered one, hm?"

Ben shook his head. "I offered to tell you an exciting story in an attempt – feeble though it very well may be – to make you realize how much fun I am. The fact that this particular tale doesn't... Well, it doesn't end well, but that doesn't make it any less of a story. And it certainly doesn't make you a sadist."

"And exactly how long will it be until I'm able to give you my verdict?" she asked. The words didn't sit right on her tongue. Even after having listened to him for no more than an hour, _judging_ what he was telling her as to whether it was fun or not seemed wrong. It felt like she was doing her mother a disservice, and she knew far better than to do that. Not after all that the queen had done for her.

"You can chime in whenever you bloody well please," Ben chuckled. "You might save me my throat – and my hide, should your mother discover what I'm up to – if you put me out of my misery now."

Val chewed absently on the inside of her lip. "If I do, will you stop telling the story?"

"There's a chance; why?"

Shaking her head, Val rested back again, clearly situating herself for another round of storytelling. "Nothing. Now, where were you? Anything _not depressing_ happening soon?"

"Actually, now that you say that..."

* * *

Sabrina shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

She could feel Jasper's hand moving up and down the length of her back in a comforting trail, but the room was altogether too quiet to soothe her. At the far side of her bedchamber, a fire crackled and popped into the silence. All she could hear aside from the fire and the remnants of gunshots from earlier that evening was her own breathing. It shook and burned in her lungs, but this was a step up from before. It had caught in her throat, choking her, forcing her into the position she sat in now.

Her petticoats were lifted up around her thighs, her face planted between her knees, and Jasper was murmuring about how dangerous it was for her to let panic get to her like that. There were very few times in her life that she'd succumbed to that cloying, suffocating panic, but it was impossible to avoid it. It came out of nowhere, and it held onto her.

"I can't believe I let him kill them, Jasper," she murmured, her cheek pressed flush against her knee. "I was _scared_. I shouldn't be scared. I'd wager my mother never cowered at something like that and then proceeded to have a panic attack once she was alone."

She heard a quiet, contemplative sound above her. "That's not entirely true, madam." His hand didn't stop rubbing up and down her back as she shifted, her chin resting on her thigh. He read curiosity on her expression easily enough. "You really much accept that your mother was not infallible. The Queen would sooner have you believe her adventures were no more than a bedtime story than to believe that she didn't have faults. Her being a Hero did not make her untouchable."

"What d'you mean?" Sabrina asked, sniffling despite the fact that she hadn't actually shed a tear in hours.

"I don't believe now is the proper time to tell you, but you must believe me." Jasper smiled down at her, a tiny quirk at the corners of his mouth. "You're bound to hear of it soon enough."

Pulling herself into a fully seated position, she rubbed at her cheek with the ruffle of her sleeve. "What am I going to do until then? I... I can't stay here. Not with him like this."

No sooner had the words left her mouth did the door at the end of her room open. The surprise gave Sabrina a shock, and she flung her arms around Jasper, mouth hiding on the padded shoulder of his uniform and blue eyes wide. She relaxed when she realized it was Walter's large frame that filled the doorway. He stood there for no longer than a moment before he entered, shutting it behind him. "You're not." She pulled away, if reluctantly, from Jasper. "We leave the castle tonight."

Jasper stood, but not before giving her a comforting pat on the hand. He moved over to her wardrobe, alerting Hammer, whose ears perked up when he passed. Sabrina looked from him to Walter and back again. "What do you mean? Where are we going to go?"

"This kingdom needs no less than a revolution," he began. It was far too cryptic for her liking, and her eyes flicked from him to Jasper once more. He'd stopped filling a floral print carpet bag when Walter waved him off. He knew what was going on. That much was obvious. "What Albion needs is a new leader. A Hero."

Sabrina didn't know what he was talking about. Her sights fell to her lap as if she'd find the answers there only to be reminded that her skirts were still lifted up nearly around her waist, baring a long strip of thigh and the frilly lace of the tops of her stockings. Her cheeks stained a dark red as she hurriedly shifted on her rear, pulling her skirt back down and smoothing the fabric to be worn as it was intended. "Where are you going to find one of them?" she near-squeaked. "My mother was the last Hero."

"Not necessarily, madam," Jasper interrupted from the armoire.

"Do you honestly think that _I_ could be a Hero?" She stood up on her bare feet, and Hammer hopped down from her bed, trotting over to stand beside her. "Is that what you were going to tell me earlier? What you wanted to talk about?"

Walter nodded, and Sabrina took a step forward. "I can barely _lift_ a sword, much less swing it. My mother could've picked _you_ up and wielded you in battle."

"Heroes don't rely only on their strength, Sabrina. You know that as well as I."

"She could shoot the stem off of an apple from yards away. She could set fire to things _from sheer will alone_. What've I got that she had besides her height?" Sabrina shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "It doesn't matter whose daughter I am. I'm not what Albion needs."

Her brows dipped inward as Walter moved over to her. "You are," he said, voice softening. "Just as I told you today, I want you to prove it to yourself. And I know exactly how we'll do that."

"I will pack the essen –"

"There's no time." Walter shot a look at Jasper, whose hand paused midway between the bag and a pair of her drawers. "We take nothing."

Sabrina looked down at her clothes. "Nothing? But... I'm hardly fit for travel in this." Plucking at the ribbons and tiered lace at her waist, she looked up at him through her lashes. Letting the fabric go, she pointed towards the pair of heels kicked not far away from her. "I'll only slow you down if I wear those."

"Does she have something decent to wear?" Walter asked. "I've seen her try to fight in them. It's... She's right; she would only slow us down."

Jasper left the bag on her bed and hurried over to the chest just beside the armoire. "She has... these." He lifted out another, incredibly similar pair of heels. These were merely pink instead of blue. When Walter huffed, he put them back down. "These." Next, a pair of slightly lower heels were removed, the same powder blue as the ones she'd worn all day. He was denied again. Reaching into the chest, he removed a pair of boots. Heeled boots. "These are quite practical."

Sabrina sighed and shook her head. "These are fine, Jasper." Moving over to where she'd discarded her footwear, she stared down at them. "I can manage. I hope."

Once she slipped her feet back into her shoes, she felt a heavy, familiar hand on her back. "Come on," Walter said, "We must leave now."

His hand fell away as he moved out ahead of her. She watched as he opened the door into the very middle of the night, and she only moved forward when Jasper came to stand at her side. "Don't worry, madam." She took a single, unconscious step forward, and her shaking hands wrung themselves in the fabric of her skirts. "I shall follow you wherever fate takes us."

The night stood in stark contrast to the warm blooming in her chest at Jasper's words. There was a chill in the air that caused goosebumps to rise on her arms, even beneath her sleeves, and it was so _silent_. The only thing she could hear besides the distant hum of Bowerstone's market was their footfalls. Walter paused ahead of them, turning to look back at her, his features creased in apology. "I should have stopped Logan," he told her, "Today, in the throne room, I should have said something."

Both Sabrina and Jasper lengthened their strides to catch up with him. Hammer moved at her side, pressing her nose into her master's palm any time she was able. "The only thing you would have accomplished is your own death," Jasper replied, "You would be of no help to Sabrina if you should be turned into holey cheese by a firing squad."

"Still," Walter murmured as Sabrina stepped up beside him, "I should have taken you away sooner. Waiting until Logan's madness became all the more clear was a bad idea."

"You... You were planning this all along?" she asked, quickening her step even farther to keep up with him. Jasper trailed behind them both, his attention torn between the dog at his side and the two in front of him. "Why didn't you tell me anything?"

He paused for a moment to think, his eyes trailing up to the large stone structure in the middle of the garden. "I considered it," he said finally. "I tried. Multiple times, in fact, but it just wasn't the right time."

At that, he turned and began the descent down to the heavy stone doors at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Where are we going?" Sabrina called after him, her voice echoing slightly as the moon was pushed out of sight by the walls that stretched upwards around her. "I thought we were – we're leaving the castle, aren't we?"

"We are." While Walter's back was turned to her, she could hear him as if he stood mere inches away from her. The warm, yet commanding tones in his words were carried up to her, filling her ears and goading her down the stairs until she stood at his side once more. "But there's something we must do first."

Sabrina glanced upwards. "Something we have to do... in the catacombs?"

The princess winced at the sound of stone scraping against stone as Walter pushed the doors open. Out of the tomb where her mother and father were interred came the smell of dust and very little else. "Right you are." He extended an arm into the dimly lit hallway leading down to the depths of the place. "If you will, princess. It's time we pay your respects to Albion's last Hero."

"I never imagined I would enter this place again," Jasper said behind them both as Sabrina continued the descent into the tomb. Both he and Walter walked side by side at her back, watching her carefully as she glanced around the unfamiliar hallways. She never made it a point to enter the tomb, having long since come to terms with her parents' deaths. Along with that, dust also made her sneeze.

The loud sound echoed down the stairwell, and Sabrina slipped her handkerchief out of a hidden pocket on her skirt, rubbing at her already red nose with it. She was thankful for the lamps, at least, though she did wonder for a long moment exactly who kept them lit during all hours of the day. Unless they were enchanted, there would have to be someone, somewhere. Hiding. Lurking in some hideaway space with an unlimited supply of lamp oil. Waiting.

A skittering sound at her side caused her to nearly jump out of her skin. Hammer looked up at her, brown head cocked to the side. "Sorry, girl," Sabrina murmured, the tips of her fingers stroking between the dog's ears.

Once the stairs led into a large room, she felt Walter place his hand on her shoulder again. He guided her farther into the tomb, and she glanced around, her eyes flicking to and fro as she tried to soak up everything at once. A long, open stone pathway led up to another set of much fewer stairs. All around the path lay candles, all lit and flickering, the pale wax forming pools over the rock.

At the very front of the room, there was the statue of an angel. Her immaculately carved hands reached up to her face in what looked like grief. She was mourning over the two sarcophagi before her. From here, Sabrina couldn't make out which was which, but she could see there were differences even at a distance.

"The night your mother died I promised her I would take you here when you were old enough," Walter murmured at her side. He moved forward with her, taking note of her initial hesitance and letting go of her shoulder only to pass his palm over the length of her upper back. "When I _knew_ you were strong enough." Sabrina shut her eyes for a moment when she felt his thumb stroke a comforting circle at the base of her neck even through her shirt's collar.

When they both mounted the stairs, she clutched at the thick ribbon tied around her waist. The carved form of her mother at her prime lay to her left. Even the etching of the will tattoos that banded over her skin was just how she remembered them. "This is your history, your legacy."

Sabrina reached out, hand settling on the smooth stone of her mother's hand. Only when her index trailed over the carving did she realize exactly how perfectly the statue decorating the sarcophagus had been crafted. The pad of her finger dipped into a few tiny crevices on the skin that crisscrossed just like the scars she recalled on her mother's right hand. They were born of taking the wrong path in life, she always told her. Her own mentor attempted to guide her to good only to have her take a turn towards the worse out of necessity. She didn't regret breaking her share of windows in order to either fund her adventure or to feed the children that gathered in the streets of Bowerstone Market at night, clinging to the sides of buildings in little clusters of desperation out of hunger.

Walter stood beside her, his eyes moving between Sabrina and the face of their former queen. They looked so much alike, even at Sabrina's much younger age. They had the same long nose, the same almost too curved chin. And while the queen was colorless and stationary now, he wasn't nearly old enough to have forgotten that they both boasted a head of red-orange hair that could put a fire to shame.

When she turned her face to look up at him, he found himself unable to keep himself from smiling, if only slightly. "The world has been too long without a Hero," he said, his hand still poised between her shoulder blades. "But it'll have one soon. I'm sure of it." Giving her back another soft pat, he moved away from the sarcophagus.

Sabrina's attention was snatched away from the carving of her mother a moment later when she heard the sound of stone against stone again. She looked in Walter's direction to see him kneeling in front of a group of tiled bricks, his large hand poised directly in front of one of them. When he pushed it all the way end, she could hear the grinding coming from the statue, of inner workings long since used last. A heartbeat later, the statue's hands fell downward, revealing the angel's serene face. Dust puffed out when the statue's hands fell downward, and she sniffed in an attempt to hold her breath, succeeding only in causing the dust to irritate her more.

She sneezed a second time and then a third, both muffled in her handkerchief. Even Hammer snorted and bent down to the ground, her paws rubbing at her nose.

Only when Walter pointed it out did she see the circular object in the angel's hands. "The Guild Seal," he announced. "This was your mother's most treasured possession." When Sabrina took a step towards the hands, she looked to Jasper, clearly wary. She felt overwhelmed. Or, she had felt overwhelmed this afternoon. This felt more like a horrible, stressful, and altogether not nice dream. Not a nightmare, per se, but definitely not her usual.

A little of this approaching anxiety ebbed when she saw Jasper nod towards the seal, confidence written across his features.

"What does it do?" she asked Walter, though her voice was nearly lost.

"It chooses those who have the power inside of them," he replied, pride creeping into his voice. "Those who have the potential to become legends."

"So... you want me to pick it up."

"It won't bite, you know." Walter motioned towards the Seal. "It doesn't have a mouth."

Sabrina rolled her eyes at him before stepping forward. She wasn't entirely ignorant to the significance of what lie in front of her. If there was anyone in Albion who knew their share about Heroes and the Guild and everything of any importance related to the two, it was her. Her mother had been a Hero, after all, and one that openly discussed with her what being a Hero meant.

This wasn't simply her picking up a disc of gold. This was her accepting her mother's mantle. She just wasn't entirely sure that it would fit.

In one, surprisingly smooth movement, Sabrina reached out and lifted the Seal out of the angel's hands. For a moment, all three of them held their breath. Hammer shifted on her paws, standing away from the group, content with standing on the sidelines for a moment or two.

Staring down at the Seal, the would-be Hero blinked. "Is... something supposed to happen?"

"You must give it time, madam."

"Look at that!" Walter shouted from beside her. It was in vain, as she was already staring at the Seal, her eyes wider than they'd ever been. The Seal was radiating a bright white light, casting a sharp glow over her face. "Hah! I told you it would work!"

His voice was lost a moment later when the bright light emanating from the Seal engulfed _everything_.

When her feet hit the ground – oddly enough, she hadn't _felt_ like she'd moved, she stumbled forward a little, her eyes snapping open to take in her surroundings. She stood upon a circle of stone surrounded by thick grass, and beneath her feet was emblazoned a golden Seal just like the one she clutched in her hands.

Her second realization was a surprising one. She wasn't alone. Before her stood a woman – a stranger, though there was something familiar about her despite the fact that Sabrina was sure she'd never met her. She was swathed in a gypsy's clothing, a hood pulled over her head, shading her eyes and most of her face. The cloth was brightly colored, but worn. The stitching was more intricate than some of what filled her armoire back at the castle.

"Who—?" Sabrina cleared her throat when her words caught in it. "Who are you?"

All it took was for the woman to mention her name for the princess to feel her heart shudder in her chest. "I am Theresa, the Seer of the Spire." Her mother told her of this woman, as well. She was her mentor, the hand that guided her in her travels. Despite Lionheart's detailed descriptions, this woman was easily the most mysterious figure she'd ever laid eyes upon. "I guided your mother in her greatest triumph. But you..." She looked up, her completely white eyes meeting Sabrina's. "Your destiny is far greater."

Sabrina stepped off of the circle and onto the grass, watching the seer's face closely. "The Seal awoke at your touch. It would do so at no one else's." She paused, and it became obvious that the woman had an innate talent for the dramatic. "It is decided. The fate of Albion rests upon your shoulders."

While she strove to listen to the seer's every word, she soon discovered that doing such was an impossibility. Her mind positively reeled at the thought of Albion, of how horribleness would come from the fate of something larger than herself resting upon _her_ shoulders. Her mother was capable, but even she was not taxed nearly as much as the seer led Sabrina to believe she would be.

Theresa guided her past the first gate and instructed her to open the chest that lie behind it. She did as she was told, hefting the previously locked chest open. At the very bottom of it, rested upon a cushion of red velvet, lie what appeared to be a gauntlet. Lifting it up out of the chest, she scrutinized the soft leather before looking to Theresa curiously.

"Within you lies a great power. You merely lack the means to unleash it." She motioned to the gauntlet in a single graceful arch of her hand. "Take this."

Pinching her brows inward, Sabrina slipped the gauntlet onto her hand, pulling it up over her forearm. She was surprised at the snugness of the fit; it was perfect. Looking back to Theresa for another string of guidance, she absently flexed her hand, admiring the ease with which the leather bended with her.

"This gauntlet will channel the magic within you," the seer continued. Sabrina nodded, though she was less than convinced that this woman spoke the truth. While she trusted her mother's tales to be true in every sense of the word, this entire situation was difficult to wrap her head around. It all seemed like a particularly vibrant dream. "It will aid you in the mausoleum. You must use it beside the tomb, and the way out of the castle will be revealed to you."

Theresa nodded, a hint of a smile curling lazily in the corner of her mouth. While Lionheart boasted talent in will enough to be formidable in battle without sword or gun, she knew what sort of warrior her daughter would become. Even now, with her unlined face and bright, curious eyes, she could see a red glow curling from her forehead, down across her cheek. Within the thick fabric of her garments, a pattern rose through the layers, a sign of two things – her strength of will and what she very well might become.

The seer turned and stepped towards the wrought iron gate, her head tilted back to peer up at the Guild Seal barring the door. "You will return here soon," Theresa said, her clear tone resonating over her shoulder as Sabrina hurried to step up beside her. "When you have gathered enough followers, you will be able to proceed through the next gate."

She saw Sabrina look to her expectantly. "Now go." Though she motioned towards the door, the princess did not move. She lingered there, still staring at her. "Walter and Jasper will follow you wherever you lead," she murmured. This time, the rumbling of her voice softened. "You need not worry, Sabrina; I am a seer of no small gift. The weight of Albion will rest well upon your shoulders." Theresa lifted her thin hand towards the ghost of Walter standing before them both. "And should you require someone to assist you, he will be there. Always."

Sabrina bit down on her bottom lip. "I know," she whispered, an odd half-smile twisting at the corner of her mouth. "I only hope he and Jasper aren't the _only_ ones who'll be there. I doubt a revolution can... work with only three people."

"One day, princess, you may very well have the whole of Albion at your back."

And then she disappeared.

Sabrina's brows lifted high on her forehead. She knew it was best not to question the ways of the blind seeress her mother told her about, but she was such a mystery. It was impossible not to wonder, if even for a short time. Nodding to herself, Sabrina stepped forward, bridging the gap between herself and the gate. Through the bars, she could see a path that wound its way to the very doorstep of a perfect replica of Fairfax castle.

She reached out, her palm pressed against the cool surface of the Seal in the middle of the gate. Before she had time to admire it any longer, the flash of white returned, ensconcing her completely in the endless warmth of it.

This time she landed firmly on her feet, though her eyes opened just as wide. Her breath caught, leaving her gasping in surprise as she took in her immediate surroundings. Walter and Jasper stood before her; the former had already begun to speak. "Well?" he asked, moving to extend a hand only to change his mind halfway through, his attention diverted momentarily by the gauntlet on her hand. "Do you... feel any different?"

"I... don't know."

"Try casting a spell," he ventured, "That's, ah, supposed to be the only way we get out of here, as it is."

Both Sabrina and Jasper's attention snapped towards Walter, their voices rising simultaneously.

"You might have mentioned that earlier."

"Wait, you _knew_ about that, and you didn't say anything?"

Walter gave a deep, rumbling chuckle, lifting his hand to rub at the back of his neck as he shrugged. "And spoil the surprise? You both know me better than that."

Sabrina rolled her shoulders, though it did little to alleviate the slight burr of pain in her back. "So... either this _works_, or we're stuck in here until someone wanders unwittingly into the catacombs that haven't been opened since my mother died years ago." She stared at Walter, whose moustache twitched upwards in a small smile. "Right. I... I'll try, then. Give it a shot."

_If I can't do this, we're all going to die down here._

She narrowed her eyes at the floor in front of her, hands lifting level with her waist. The complete and utter silence around her only served as a helpful, aiding her in her focus to the point of being able to hear her blood pounding in her ears.

_I'm going to make up for what happened today. I'm going to help people. I'm not going to be a coward_.

The gauntlet on her right hand began to glow faintly. A similar puff of orange light appeared in her gloved palm. Her fingers flexed inward, and the glow flickered and shook, gone from little more than a bit of smoke to an actual flame.

_I'm doing it! Gods, I'm actually** doing**_ _it!_

Chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, she curled her hands into fists and lifted them upwards until they were level with her shoulders. The flames flickered outwards, engulfing her gauntlet and glove in a fire that did not burn the cloth. A thrill ran through her, and she could feel the backs of her eyes burning as the triumph of what she was doing settled in.

When she pressed both hands downward, a ring of fire spread outward from her person, circling the golden Guild Seal she stood upon. A line of flame shot forward in the direction of the angel. The entire room shook as the two sarcophagi began to separate, a mechanism spurred on by her magic that revealed a staircase leading out of the castle. She'd done this. She'd actually caused this to happen.

"It bloody worked!" Walter shouted, moving toward her as he stared back at the staircase. Before either she or Jasper could reply to him (hadn't he expected it to work this whole time?), Sabrina felt herself being lifted off of her feet by one strong arm barred across the backs of her thighs. She let out squeal and a rip of relieved laughter as she clung onto him for dear life. "You really are a Hero!"

The sheer drunkenness she felt from this revelation pulled her forward, and she planted a firm kiss on his cheek, though the gesture was broken up by more of her thankful, high-pitched giggling.

Beside them, Jasper straightened his posture, arms bent behind his back. "Well, _I _never doubted it for a second."

When Sabrina bent back to look at Walter, a challenging brow arched as she anticipated his reply. "I didn't either," he said defensively. "Still, it bloody worked!"

He let her down onto her feet soon after, though she felt compelled to wrap her arms around him for a moment longer. No matter how long her limbs, she couldn't quite reach all the way around, but that didn't matter. She was a Hero, and she would _be _a hero.

"You get one, too, Jasper!" Turning towards her trusty manservant, Sabrina hurried over and flung herself at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek just as she had given to Walter.

"That was not completely necessary, madam," he said with a smile, his hand patting at her back. "But I must say that it is quite a relief."

Sabrina laughed again. She felt like a weight had not been added onto her shoulders, but taken off of it. Perhaps living her mother's legacy would not be as trying as she originally assumed. Stepping away from Jasper, she looked to Walter, her smile stretching nearly from ear to ear. "I'll say."

* * *

**A/N:** I just wanted to give another shoutout to you guys. Thank you _so much_ for the continued support! It seriously means so much to me. It also gives me the boot in the ass I need to keep writing and updating regularly. Also, the chapters just keep getting longer... I feel like I'm overreaching a little! Hahaha. So, yes, thank you ALL. ALL OF YOU. Every single one of you who's reading this, has it Story Alerted, has it Favorited, has left reviews. I love every single one of you. HAPPY HAPPY.

/is on a high from the ending of this chapter

/breathes


	6. Chapter V : The Sanctuary

There was a long stretch of silence as they descended down the stairs. Sabrina's merriment was reduced to little more than a quiet hiccup. All the same, the sound bounced off of the close walls of the tunnel they found themselves in, the volume amplified until she found herself biting down on her cheek to stifle it.

The tunnel wasn't nearly as expansive as the tomb. The walls were much closer and shoddily carved. Stones protruded in every direction. Candles decorated some of them, casting just barely enough light to see down the length of the path. While they were all thankful for the light, it had to be said that light also created an excess of shadow.

"This passageway... is somewhat narrow," Walter murmured, breaking the quiet. His moustache twitched a little as he pursed his lips. "And dark, too."

"You never did care much for confined spaces, did you, Sir Walter?" Jasper flicked at something he felt touch his cheek. Bringing his hand up to his face, he saw that it was no mere burst of air, but a spiderweb. He made a quiet sound of distress, dusting at his cheek and face until he was sure the web was gone entirely. Taking a slightly quicker step in Sabrina's direction, he merged into the very center of the passage in an attempt not to stray too far to either side. He cleared his throat, gloved hand still moving over his jacket as if he didn't entirely believe he was rid of whatever arachnid's home he'd just destroyed. "It strikes me as an odd fear for someone as impressive as yourself."

Walter shot a look over his shoulder. "Yeah, well, I never did care for being walloped in the back of the head or kneed between the legs, either. What of it?"

His defensive snap made Sabrina's eyes nearly double in size. She'd never seen Walter react to Jasper like that. She'd never seen him react to _anyone_ like that. But she knew how fears worked. That twisting in your gut and slight sheen on your brow could cause anyone to snap at an old friend.

As Jasper gave his muttered reply, Sabrina hurried forward to stand beside him. "Oh my, I seem to have struck a nerve. I do apologize."

Just as Walter was preparing his comeback, his eyes fell to a sudden flicker of orange at his side. He saw Sabrina staring down at her gauntlet. On her palm, a tiny, experimental flame licked the cave's damp air. She was staring down at it with still-wide eyes, the fire she conjured up reflecting an orange glow onto her face. She bit down on her bottom lip to hold back a smile as she glanced up from the spell to see Walter's reaction.

"Hah, that's not necessary, Sabrina." Even as he said this, she could see his cheek twitch in a small smile. Reaching out, he waved his hand in the little flame, effectively putting it out. "There's – well, there's _enough_ light. You needn't bother."

"It's not a bother." Another, slightly brighter flame flickered into existence. She couldn't help but don a mischievous smile. The showing off made her feel a bit woozy, like her feet weren't on solid ground, but she couldn't help herself. She had this new power, and she wanted to see what she could do with it. All of her doubts paled in comparison to her almost innate curiosity. "This way we can see where we're going."

Walter didn't have the heart to deny her the opportunity to help a second time. He walked beside her, carefully picking past the more slippery rocks to keep her from slipping. He couldn't begin to imagine how difficult it must have been for her to walk in those shoes, much less on uneven ground while trying to maintain even a tiny flame. Still, this could be used as a jumping point for the future. If she knew she could accomplish small things, she might be inspired to accomplish larger.

Just as he'd begun thinking about what _larger_ might entail, the four of them turned the corner. Walter was unable to keep himself from letting out a thankful sigh as they approached an opening that led directly into one of the single largest caverns he'd ever seen.

"Ah, now _this_ is more like it," he said, stepping forward and opening his arms. Taking a deep breath, he released it with a laugh. "Grand, spacious, full of oxygen... Just the way a castle's escape route is supposed to be!" Turning on his heel, his eyes settled upon Sabrina to find her standing there, looking a bit pale. She blinked, shifting slightly on her heels. Carefully, he reached forward and grabbed her wrist with one hand, closing her fingers into a fist with the other. The flame disappeared immediately. "There'll be none of that." Nodding upwards, he smiled. "There's plenty of light here."

He let go of her hand, and she let it fall to her side. "No... No, I'm fine." Her eyes brightened, but her skin remained pale. "I only – it feels so _odd_. Like I've got thousands of lightning bugs buzzing around in my veins. It kind of burns, but it's not unpleasant. Which doesn't make a lick of sense, I'm sure."

"I don't imagine it would to anyone who isn't a Hero," Walter replied. "Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?"

"You have gone quite a spectacular green color," Jasper intoned from behind her."

Sabrina lifted her hand to her cheek, rubbing at the flesh. "I didn't mean to make any of you worry. I'm fine. Promise." Glancing between them both, she managed an unsure smile. "It'll just take some getting used to."

"Keep a close eye on her, Jasper." With that, Walter turned to begin their trek through whatever labyrinthine pathways lay before them.

The manservant scoffed. "And exactly who else would I be keeping an eye on?"

Walter stopped walking for a moment, a sharply worded reply rolling on his tongue, but he forfeited at the knowledge that his comment would get them nowhere. Instead, he turned and began walking up the trail. So many years of training, even more spent in the Royal Army, and a constant regimen of exercise pulled him far out ahead of the rest of the group. He took each long stride heartily, glancing behind him now and again to make sure they were all still there.

She could hear Jasper begin a few sentences at her side. They were quiet enough to go unheard by Walter, though this was out of uncertainty rather than unwillingness to share. After all, the questions were _for_ Walter. Finally, he mustered up the energy to very nearly high step in her mentor's direction, scurrying rather much like a mouse until he was able to catch up with Walter. "If you don't mind my inquiry, would you share with us your plan?" She could see Walter's pace slow considerably. "Other than escaping the castle, of course, for which I am hugely grateful and in favor of."

He nodded, ushering Jasper to continue speaking. "While I imagine the princess is far too tired to be bothered with the details quite yet, I must admit that I am at a loss."

"It's simple," Walter replied. While Sabrina never expected that it would _actually_ be simple, the words that left him sent ice into her stomach. "We have to stop Logan. It is our only option."

From behind the two men, she cleared her throat. They both stopped in their tracks. "Yes, I _am_ tired, but I can only imagine that you mean _I_ have to stop Logan. In which case a little more detail wouldn't go amiss." She felt Hammer's snout nudge her forward. "I'm only one person. I don't think I'll be able to dethrone the king of Albion by tossing a bit of flame at him."

"Of course not," he quipped, resulting in a perturbed huff from the princess. He lifted a hand to quiet her. "I'm only saying that that's why we need to find allies. Lots and _lots_ of allies." His thick, gray brows lifted upwards in emphasis. "Once you prove to them that you're a Hero, people will follow you. Many of them will even be willing to fight." Opening an arm, he waved for her to join them. She made her way towards them, her hands disappearing into the lace gathered at her waist. "But they'll need someone to believe in, a leader. Albion needs no less than a revolution."

"So you've said," Sabrina murmured, "but do you even think I'll be capable of it? I mean... I don't doubt that I'm a Hero. I think this-" She lifted her hand up out of the folds of her skirt, fingers flexing. "This proves it. Still, I've yet to prove if I'm a very good one."

Walter gave her a small pat on her shoulder. "It'll come. You'll get the chance to show everyone that you're made of sterner stuff than we all believe."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he chuckled, coughing to clear his throat. "I mean, _most_ of them believe, your Highness."

Beside them, they heard a shrill noise. Sabrina's eyes jerked upwards, and though the cluster of creatures that approached were bats, she was absolutely sure none of them had made the sound. The high-pitched _aiiee_ came from the butler, who ducked down with surprising speed, his arms flailing above his head as he fought to get them away.

"Bats! Take cover!"

Walter's hand fell to the pistol at his hip. "Another chance to show us what you've got, princess. What do you say we show these pests what's for?"

Nodding, Sabrina very nearly cringed into herself as the colony of bats swooped down upon them. All it took was the feeling of clawed feet in her hair for her to screech just as loudly as Jasper had. No more than a moment later, she heard a gunshot and watched as the bat was thrown out of her hair and against a rock on the far side of the path. It landed in a black, winged heap, dead.

As the cluster dove for them again, Sabrina twisted and held a hand up in defense. A burst of flame shot from her palm, hitting the bat mere feet away from her. It disintegrated before her eyes.

She swallowed in surprise. Her hesitation gave Walter enough time to unload another two bullets into the palpitating cloud, though she followed them with a similar eruption of fire from her gauntlet. The bats scattered. She hadn't managed to kill any more, but some of them were wounded, emitting a barrage of earsplitting shrieks as they fought to gather their ranks a second time.

Even in between the sounds of gunfire, the crackling of her magic, and the deafening cries from the bats, she could hear Walter _laughing_. This, in turn, brought her farther into the fight. She could see it in what brief flashes she saw of his face. He was proud of her. "Exactly like that!" he called as she twisted her waist the shoot another bat straight out of the air. It bumped into one of its brethren, setting the second beast aflame. Walter's pistol finished the second, the bullet exploding outwards just over her shoulder.

When the cluster of animals dispersed, Sabrina was nearly out of breath, though the color had returned to her cheeks. Jasper straightened his posture, hands smoothing over his jacket as he regained his composure, a serene expression falling over his well-lined face. Walter, on the other hand, looked almost as bouncy as Hammer, who scampered over and began circling around her legs. The dog, not her mentor.

"Excellent!" he shouted. The sound rang upwards, filling the cavern up to the very top. "Did you see that, Jasper? Did you see it?"

"Of _course_ I did, Walter. I was standing right here." He looked to the princess, a smile unfurling on his lips. She couldn't help but smile right back at him. "Impeccable work, madam. Were she here to see it, your mother would be very proud."

Walter moved over to her in a few heavy steps. "Well, I know I am," he said. His hand nestled just beneath the lacy collar of her shirt, palm pressed flush between her shoulders. "Come on."

Before they'd moved more than three feet, Walter twisted at his waist to shoot an amused look at Walter. "And I'm proud of you, too, old friend." The butler only barely repressed the urge to roll his eyes. He was well aware of what was coming. "I've never seen a man cower with such grace."

"It is a matter of hygiene, Walter. Bats are horrible, filthy creatures."

"And are prone to bursting into flames, it seems," Sabrina piped up. "I didn't realize they were so flammable."

Walter gave a deeply set chuckle, his attention turning back towards the princess. "I don't suppose they were expecting that, if anything at all. Maybe that show of yours will keep them from attacking poor Jasper a second time." Glancing down the pathway, he uttered a small, almost wistful sigh. "Anyway, I think we've both just witnessed the very beginning of your skill set, Sabrina. You really are the Hero that can lead this land in a revolution. Flammable bats are only the beginning."

So their trek through the cavern and out of the castle continued. The pathway grew less winding as they moved on, bending in long, graceful turns around the hills of rock that sprouted out of the ground. Rubbing at her arms, Sabrina stayed as close to Walter as she could without bumping into him. "Who do you suppose built all of this?" she asked aloud without intention.

"Huh. I don't know." Hand settled on the pummel of his sword, Walter stared upwards as he took each careful step. Tiny rocks and puffs of dirt were kicked up with every footfall, but he wasn't alone in causing such. She could feel some of the grit gathering in her shoes. "It's older than Bowerstone itself. I can tell you that much. The roads aren't very modern."

Sabrina bit back a grin. "No, I shouldn't think so." Craning her neck, she looked back to Jasper, who seemed preoccupied with keeping Hammer from running off. He wasn't doing a very good job of it, either, as the boxer kept scampering off only to return just a tiny bit dirtier. "Do you know anything about it?"

"Hm?" His head snapped to attention. "Oh! No, madam. As all escape routes, I imagine this one is merely here for convenience and to progress our plot in an expeditious fashion."

"I can accept that," she replied, turning her attention back to the road ahead.

When they passed yet another bend in the path, Sabrina settled her eyes upon a steady slope downward that ended in a long stretch of water. How this even got there was mind-boggling enough considering the cavern had no opening for rain, but then she realized she would have to walk through it. In heels and stockings. Already bone tired.

Before they made it to the pool, however, they were intercepted by yet another colony of bats. This one was hurried off in a slightly more efficient manner, though Sabrina felt almost sapped of all her energy by the time they finished.

Walter was tromping around in the water for a long moment before he realized no one was following him.

He turned to look back at them. Sabrina was standing at the very edge, staring down at the water with her hands buried into the fabric of her skirts again. She was flanked by Jasper and Hammer. They both stared almost accusingly at the water, waiting for her to take a step into it.

"Come on!" Walter shouted, taking another step in the opposite direction for show. "It's just a bit of water! Nothing to be afraid of!"

"The water is going to soak in to my clothes," Sabrina murmured. "It'll weigh me down. I'm already tired."

"Perhaps we should rest?" Jasper looked to Sabrina and then to Walter, who was already moving towards them. Water splashed up with every determined step.

Walter shook his head, a hand waving his dissent. "We're _not_ stopping. If we stop, whatever energy we have left is going to go away. Then we'll be stuck in this cavern." He looked to Jasper, who still didn't seem entirely adverse to the idea. "With the bats."

"Ah, yes, we should keep going! No one ever accomplished anything by putting off the inevitable, madam. We really must continue."

"Traitor," Sabrina murmured under her breath. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she looked up at Walter, her blue eyes gone wide. "But I'm not _used_ to this sort of thing, Walter. I can barely walk in these things as it is. How am I supposed to manage crossing through water?"

He stared at her for a long moment, though the look in his eyes was distant, as if he was thinking about something. Finally, he reached forward, curling an arm around the back of her thighs as he had earlier. "Don't get used to this, princess," he muttered, hoisting her a little farther up. "You'll have to do your share of walking through disgusting things in the next few months. Years, even. The people won't want to follow someone who's been spoiled by their life in a castle, you know."

"I know," she murmured, curling an arm around his neck and letting her head rest on his shoulder. She looked back to Jasper, who didn't bother to keep himself from rolling his eyes this time. "If I had proper shoes, I would. I promise." She yawned, watching as Hammer trotted after them, leaving the butler alone at the shore of their tiny little lake.

"I'm not going to carry you, too, Jasper," Walter said, his voice resonating back to him without even turning. "I suggest you not fall too far behind."

For a moment, as Walter carefully made his way across the stretch of water, Sabrina shut her eyes. She'd only just managed to keep herself from yawning a second time. Instead, she settled in, both arms now curled around Walter's neck, and finally had a moment to think. How _exactly_ had she gotten here? Just that morning, Jasper had roused her out of bed, as usual. She'd put on her best suit of clothes, as usual. She'd met with Elliot, as usual. Trained with Walter, as usual...

And now she was a Hero being carried across a glorified puddle in the castle's escape route by the man she'd pined for since she was little taller than his waist. She was being pulled along by words like destiny and fate and revolution, and at the end of the tunnel was a crown, a crown that she never even wanted in the first place. She was content with being the princess, deciding on whether she was going to wear pink or blue and not the life or death of someone else. Still, she didn't have the heart to leave the people of her mother's country to be crushed beneath her brother's boot. They needed a hero in the most literal sense. Now that the blind seeress had come to her, proclaiming her to be an actual Hero, she resolved to at least try.

It only took them a few moments to cross the water, but by the time they reached dry land again, Jasper had to quicken his steps to keep Walter from putting her down. "She's asleep," he whispered, "The Hero has had quite a long day, you realize."

"Of course," Walter said, his voice falling into near-silence in an attempt to mind his volume. He shifted his arm a little, boosting her just enough to let her rest more of her face on his shoulder. His other arm barred across her back in a protective gesture, hand settling innocently on her waist. "You might want to mind your nose up here, Jasper. It's the Bowerstone sewers."

The smell was... ripe, to say the very least. Walter found himself swallowing back the acidic burn of bile, and he'd traveled through worse. Jasper, on the other hand, held his sleeve to his mouth and nose, breathing in the familiar scent of the castle instead of what disgusting smells surrounded them. Even Sabrina, who'd nearly fallen unconscious out of sheer exhaustion, reacted to the surroundings. Her nose twitched and then wrinkled, and like a pup smelling its mothers milk, she shifted in Walter's arms, unwittingly nuzzling her face past his collar and into the curve of his neck.

At first, Jasper didn't see this decided change in the princess' position. It took Walter nearly stopping in his tracks to garner the curiosity of the butler, who held his hand closer to his mouth and moved around to Walter's other side. When he saw Sabrina nestled comfortably against him, he couldn't help but murmur a muffled, "Oh, dear."

They stood there for a moment. Walter, afraid to jostle and wake her, turned bodily towards Jasper, staring down at him. "Well, then, I... I would not think anything of it, if I were you," Jasper replied to Walter's silent question. "She's only tired."

"Why would I think anything of it?" he asked, "What if we need her for something?"

"If we need her, we will wake her. It is as simple as that."

Avo's arse, he couldn't even nod without stirring her. Taking a careful breath, Walter began moving forward, carefully timing his steps so as not to slip on anything. There was _much_ to slip on in these sewers, and none of it was pleasant.

Even nestled in the curve of Walter's neck, the smell got to Sabrina, effectively rousing her from her light sleep. Blinking, she pulled herself into more of a seated position, though her arms remained curled around his neck, holding herself to him as tightly as she could manage with her head making everything as fuzzy as it was. "Mmrr – what is that _smell_?"

"The sewers," Walter muttered as they rounded the corner. His brows dipped inward, pulling her attention to where he was staring. "And it appears we've run out of it."

"Directly into a dead end."

Sabrina glanced at Jasper. She lifted her hand to rub at her eyes. "How long was I asleep?"

"Five minutes, at the very most."

"I'm sorry," she murmured to Walter, palm still buried into her eye as she tried to get whatever sleep remained to disappear.

Walter shook his head. "Awake enough to stand, are you?" he asked. When she nodded, he let her slip down onto her feet. She was a bit wobbly at first, and he held onto her until he knew she was steady enough to walk on her own. The princess was shaky on her feet as it was, and everyone was even clumsier after even a short nap. If he wasn't careful, she might've ended up breaking something.

His gaze flicked ahead of them, past the long pathway lined with candles to the very end. "It's not a dead end," he said, taking a step forward. Lingering there for a moment, he turned towards Sabrina, placing a hand on her lower back to guide her forward. She was still half-asleep, her eyelids drooping at the corners as she blinked rapidly. "That up there? I'm pretty sure it's a cullis gate."

"Oh!" Sabrina hurried a step forward, though she had to cover her mouth to stifle a yawn. "I know what those are. It's some sort of magical transportation system for the Heroes. Like... a hansom. Or a buggy. But instant. Right?"

"I thought all of the cullis gates in Albion were destroyed," Jasper interrupted. "Or deactivated."

Walter gave a shrug. "The queen must have kept this one in working order."

There was a warm, blooming feeling in the very center of Sabrina's chest. Had her mother kept this open knowing that she would end up a Hero? Why else would she? Even though she was a laughable excuse for a fighter and even more useless when it came to standing up for anything, her mother knew. She knew she would see this place. Even after meeting Theresa, a woman who could see the very future ahead of them, she _knew_ that her mother had done this out of her own faith and not just in preparation for what she said would happen.

"You'll need to use your magic to open it," Walter told her, letting his hand fall to his side when she moved forward. "Who knows where we'll end up, but this appears to be the only way out of here."

Ascending the few stairs to stand on the cullis gate, Sabrina turned and stared back at Walter and Jasper. They were both looking up at her, and even through her slightly blurry vision, she could see the expectation written on their expressions. For once, she saw that look, and she wasn't afraid of it. She knew she could do this, just as implicitly as they did.

When she lifted her gauntlet, her entire being focused on the energy balling in her hand, the fire was seemingly brought out of the ground, circling the golden gilded Seal she stood upon. And like that, the cullis gate was activated, engulfing the four of them in a shimmering white light.

For no longer than a moment, Sabrina felt herself being carried again. This time it was by a warm _lightness_, not Walter, and she felt herself pulled a shaky step forward as everything came into view again.

They weren't standing in the escape route, but in a circular room filled with cobwebs and dust and displaced or broken furniture. The floor's tiles were broken in places, hairline fractures conjuring them out of their once-aligned positions. As she looked around, she could feel an odd sense of remembrance falling over her. But she didn't know of such a place. She'd certainly never been here to her knowledge.

Blinking, she took a step forward. Or, she would have if her feet hadn't failed her entirely, her heel sticking in one of the many grooves of the cullis gate. Walter caught a flail of her arms out of the corner of his eye, turning and grabbing at her before she fell flat on her face.

Shutting her eyes, Sabrina groaned. "M'sorry," she murmured, patting at his arm as she forcibly removed her heel and stood up straight. "I'm prob'ly not making a very good impression of myself, am I? Not a very good Hero."

"You need your rest, is all, madam," Jasper said from behind her. "I shall clear some things away so you can do so."

At that, he began bustling around this unnamed, mysterious place. Broken tiles were cast aside. Cobwebs were destroyed. The floor was dusted off as best he could with a tattered strip of fabric he'd found laying across what looked to be a map in the very center of the room. When he was satisfied with a small stretch of ground, he removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

As he guided her to the spot, Sabrina turned to glance over his shoulder at Walter, her voice piping up, though it was obvious it took some work to get it loud enough. "I'll do something heroic t'morrow, 'kay?"

* * *

**A/N:** Wow, I'm sorry that took so long, guys. I had a rough past few days inspiration-wise and could hardly get out more than a little bit a day, hahah. All in all, I'm fairly happy with how this came out. Also, if anyone's wondering where Ben and Val are, they'll be up next. It's going to be a little interlude before I segue into the main "mission" so to speak.

Again, thanks for your encouragement.


	7. Interlude I : A Brief Pause

"Well, if it isn't the illustrious General Finn."

Both Ben and Val looked to the woman who stood before them. She was dressed to the nines, as were all of the guests, though she was one of the few who looked uncomfortable in her corset. Her dark skin lined around her eyes as she smiled, and she held out a hand to help Ben onto his feet. "Charged with babysitting, were you?" she asked, shooting a teasing look to Val, who rolled her eyes.

"It was voluntary," Ben laughed, taking her hand and hoisting himself onto his feet. He let go only to wrap his arms around her in a tight hug. "Page, love, it's been _too_ long."

She gave him a pat on his back, stepping away a moment later to give him a pair of narrowed eyes. Her smile didn't stutter in the smallest bit as her attention shifted to the princess. "Voluntary, hm? Is old Ben regaling you with tales of his rise to fame, then?"

"Actually, I was –"

"He was telling me about my mother," Valerie interrupted with a smile of her own. "About her and... Uh." Her voice lowered to almost conspiratory levels. "Her and Sir Walter."

Page nodded, her lips pursed as she looked to Ben.

"What? She _asked_," Ben offered, lifting his palms to her in a gesture of innocence.

"I did not ask!"

Sighing, the soldier gave his pale eyes a roll. "Alright, so she told me I was boring." He looked at his old friend with an expression detailing his disbelief at how anyone could assume such a thing. Surely no one in the right frame of mind would consider him boring. "I had to prove her wrong."

Shifting on her feet, Page set her hands on her hips. "So you're telling her about her mother's... love life?" It took an otherworldly amount of inner strength to keep her from smashing her palm into her forehead. After many, _many_ years of knowing Ben, she knew better than to expect any more of him, so to speak. She'd learned to take what she was given and do little more than hope that she could clean up whatever figurative mess he left behind.

"That's not _all_," Ben said, a bit defensively. "Sabrina accomplished a lot more than that. And, honestly, while love's nice and all, it's not exactly epic in scope. Not like the revolution."

Page shook her head. "If I didn't know you any better, Finn, I'd be offended." Turning towards Valerie, she gave her a small smile. "Don't let him fool you. He's a sucker for that sort of thing, and he'd gladly go on for days about romance if you let him."

"Hours," he corrected her, glancing toward Val as well. "At the most."

"No use to try and regain your dignity, Ben," Page chuckled, "The damage has been done. Let it rest."

Val grinned, delighted at the subtle bickering between the pair. She often wondered how two people who were at such odds most of the time could remain together for so many years, but she was sure they were together _because_ of it, not in spite of it. They were the sorts of people to grin while chewing on their own sarcastic retorts. That's what she liked so much about them.

"Women. I swear." Huffing, Ben rested his hands on his hips. "Avo-blessed as they are, I can't begin to understand why we put up with them. So cruel."

"You put up with us because we're pretty," Val laughed, "And even those that aren't still have brea –"

A throat cleared just beside her, and her mouth snapped closed. "General Finn," Hobson greeted, bending his shiny head in a half-hearted bow. "Madam Page. If you would excuse me, it's long past the princess' bedtime. She has a very busy day tomorrow."

"But tomorrow's Sunday. I haven't anything to do on –"

"_Very busy_."

Val's eyes flicked to Ben. Her brows pinched upwards in silent pleading, and all he gave her was a little shrug. Sighing heavily, she lifted herself up off of the bench. "Will you be around tomorrow?" she asked. Her shoulders slouched a little, only adding more weight to the heavy, put upon lilt in her voice. "I'd really like to hear more."

"Ensnared by my tale, are you?" Ben asked, unable to keep the slightest hopeful air to creep into his words. Page had to bite down on her cheek to keep from pointing it out.

Glancing at Hobson, she saw him standing there, eyes focused on her and hands held behind his back.

"Of course... not." She cleared her throat, looking back to Ben. "I have a _very busy day_ tomorrow, after all. I was only wondering in case I had a break. A really long break. A really, really, very long –"

"We get it, your Highness," Hobson murmured.

Ben nodded, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "I'll be here, princess."

After barely managing to give both Page and Ben a hug, Val was shuffled off up the stairs towards her room. Hobson was a silent guide, nudging her every once in a while when her steps slowed. For such a small man, he was both pushy and intimidating. Maybe it was the fact that he lorded over the treasury as if it was filled with millions of his small, shiny children, and it was by his hand that she was given her allowance. If she was petulant, he might stop the flow of gold altogether.

"Hobson," Val said finally as they mounted the top of the stairs. "Did you know Sir Walter?"

His flushed cheeks paled considerably, and she could almost hear his thoughts of, "_oh gods_." When he nodded and opened the door leading into a branching hallway, he paused to shut it. "I knew him for a year before his unfortunate end, ma'am." Hurrying to catch up, he fell into stride beside her. "Why do you ask? Is there something you wish to know?"

"Ben was telling me about him and my mother," she said, hands laced in front of her. "You know him. I know he wouldn't lie to me, but... is he overstating what really happened? Is he exaggerating?"

"About your mother and Sir Walter? Oh, no, ma'am. One needn't exaggerate when it comes to the Queen and Sir Walter. I dare say whatever the general has told you is entirely true." He paused a second time, turning to look towards her, though he got only her profile. "Has your mother never mentioned him to you?"

Val bit down on her bottom lip, twisting open the door leading into her room. "Only in passing. I remember her telling me a story or two when I was little. And I faintly remember him, though I was too young to really recall my first year in the castle." Her hands moved to her hair, fingers working at the pins that held it back as she moved towards her vanity. "He was kind to me. Mother assured me of this much later. All I remember is... pipe smoke and... caramel, oddly enough."

Her mother's aide chuckled, an odd, bubbling sound. "Ah, yes, Sir Walter had a bit of a sweet tooth, as I recall. During his time in the castle, the Queen made sure to keep him supplied with candies." Shaking his head, he grinned, a crater of a dimple forming in his cheek. "There was enough gold in the treasury to allow such a thing, and your mother always has been the doting sort."

As always, Hobson helped her into bed. Having known him since she was a baby, she was more than comfortable with him. Not that she had any reason whatsoever to worry about him. His heart was taken in a very big way, though she imagined Reaver would be none the wiser if asked.

Once she was settled, her pillow tucked carefully under her head, she patted the bed next to her. He sat on the very edge. "Is there something in particular you'd like to know?" he asked. "I am hardly as apt a storyteller as the general."

"Did he love her back?" Rubbing her cheek against her pillow, she looked up at him. He couldn't help but marvel how much she reminded him of Sabrina. Time and time again, the Queen had asked him questions about what she ought to do, and she always got that same, hopeful light in her eyes. "Ben's only in the beginning of the story, and... well, I don't really want to listen to such a long story if he never loves her back. I have enough of that to deal with _now_."

"Hmph, well, if you're speaking of what I think you're speaking of, you're better off. Daniel could hardly handle a princess, anyway. He's far too common."

Turning her face into her pillow, Val sighed, her shoulders rising and falling with the harsh puff of air. "Gods, not this again," she muttered, "As if I don't get this enough from everyone else. I _know_ he's common. I know he works _for_ the castle. You're the last person who should remind me of this. Now, will you tell me about my mother, or can I go to sleep?"

Hobson's mouth twitched downward. "He did love her, but I believe you should wait for Ben to tell you just how much." Standing, he plucked at the fabric of his jacket. "Goodnight, your Highness."

"G'nigh', Hobs'n," came a voice muffled by her pillow.

When she heard the door close behind him, she snuggled closer to her pillow, clutching it in her arms. She wasn't tired in the slightest, but she found herself drifting off the longer she lay there. Even as her eyelids grew heavy, she could feel her thoughts spinning in the back of her head. What would Ben tell her about the next day? Where would her mother and Sir Walter travel? What would befall them when they got there?

She was asleep before she knew it, and only once during the night did she wake, her body willing her asleep to force the hours to pass more quickly.

The hour was late when the door to her room opened again. This time, the footfalls were light, almost soundless, and she only stirred when she felt someone sit on the side of her bed. The dip in the mattress was followed by a small, warm hand on the center of her back. She kept her eyes closed, her breathing slow and comfortable, as she felt her mother's thumb brushing over her nightshirt.

For a long time, this was all that she could feel. The queen made not a noise, content in rubbing at her daughter's back. Only when Val shifted, pulling her cheek away from her pillow to look up at her, did she say something.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," Sabrina murmured, her fingers still brushing between Val's shoulders. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to her brow. Even in the briefest of brushes, Val could feel her mother's damp cheek against hers. "Go back to sleep."

Still groggy, Val could do little but nod and let her head fall back onto her pillow, jaw popping in a yawn before she drifted off to sleep again.

She woke just as she fell asleep – to thoughts of how Ben's story would continue. Margret swept into the room at the same obnoxiously early hour as always, throwing open the curtains to find that Val was already mostly awake. She was lying prone beneath the covers on purpose, content with staring up at the canopy of her bed and wishing she could dress without standing up.

"You'd do good to look at your vanity, miss," Margret said. She was always peppy, far more excited about the rest of the day than Val ever could be. "You have a gift."

At that, the princess pulled herself up into a seated position, palm half-buried into her eye. "What is it?" she asked, her vision still blurry from sleep. When she was finally able to blink it away, her eyes settled upon a slender vase poised on the very end of her vanity. Resting inside of it was a flower she recognized from the garden. The petals were mostly white, though the ends were tipped with a brush of red. Smiling to herself, she looked to Margret. "Are they from... you know who?"

"Daniel?" she asked without pause, the speed of her reply causing Val to cringe. "Oi, sorry. I... shouldn't have agreed to bring it to you."

"No, no," Val murmured before crawling out of bed and hurrying over to the vanity. "It's fine. Thank you for bringing it up." Picking up the vase, she lifted the bloom to her nose and breathed in. "Hm, can you pick out something pretty for today? Lightly colored. White, maybe? With a little red?"

Of course, Margret knew exactly the dress she was thinking of, and the princess was dressed and on her way down the stairwell in the direction of the kitchens in less than an hour. The servants and other various folk wandering around the castle nodded to her as she passed. She replied to each of them with a small smile, unable to keep the pep out of her step as her nose remembered the scent of the flower.

When she entered the kitchen, however, something went horribly wrong. She'd taken not two steps into the large room before she realized the figure standing at one of the flour-dusted tables wasn't Daniel. It was Ben. Daniel stood on the far side of the room, eagerly helping one of the cooks chop vegetables for that day's meal.

Both Ben and Daniel looked up when she entered. The latter lifted up a hand in a wave, but her line of sight was broken when the former stepped up to greet her. "Come to look for me, have you?" he asked, taking a hearty bite out of the apply in his hand.

"Uh... yes?" Her brows dipped inward with her own uncertainty. "Good morning?"

"Good morning indeed!" He turned toward the table, grabbing one of the remaining apples and tossing it at her. "Here, catch!"

Val's arms flailed helplessly before she just managed to catch the flying fruit. Once she was satisfied with the apple's safety, she began rubbing at its bright red skin with her sleeve. It began to shine up at her in no time. "Why are you so chipper?"

Ben grinned, moving over to wrap an arm around her shoulder. Before she could protest, she was being ushered out of the door. Casting a look over her shoulder towards Daniel, she could see him lift his red head from the vegetables to give her a small, almost shy smile. "I'm always chipper, your Highness," Ben replied, giving her shoulder an absent pat. "Now, where were we? Your mum had found the Sanctuary, right? Finally freed from the castle?"

"Yes," Val said, taking a tentative bite of apple. She chewed thoughtfully as they made their way towards the garden. Spotting the stone bench in front of the statue of Sir Walter, she pointed towards it, tilting her chin up to look Ben in the face. "Can we sit here? It seems fitting."

"That it does," he agreed, "That it does." Holding out his free hand, he let go of her and ushered her forward to sit on the bench. He plopped down beside her, the heels of his boots kicking at the dirt. "So your mother has just found the Sanctuary. Not much happened there. Jasper found a book left to him by Lionheart, telling him all the fancy bells and whistles that came with it. And then Sabrina and Sir Walter left for the Dweller camp, looking for those followers they so desperately needed for the revolution..."

* * *

**A/N:** Wow, guys, I really should apologize for the lax updating lately! I haven't been feeling too well, and I've been kind of falling behind in my daily word count. Fff, whose bright idea was it to write a fic for NaNoWriMo? Oh, right, that was me. True enough. That said, the next chapter _should_ be up either tomorrow or the next day, depending on how much I'm able to write tonight and tomorrow. Until then, I hope you enjoyed this little nugget of Ben and Val. I'm so glad you guys like her, hahah. I was afraid she'd come off as obnoxious; I'm glad to see that isn't the case.

Again, thank you all for the constant encouragement! It means the world to me. I'll never be able to thank you enough. :)


	8. Chapter VI : Dweller Boots

"Princess..."

Sabrina shifted, her thin hand grasping tighter around the collar of Jasper's coat as she pulled it up closer to her face. Her only reply was a muffled, half-hearted, "Mmmnn."

"_Sabrina_."

Her name was punctuated by a cold, wet tongue sliding over her cheek and into her hair. Hammer snuffled into the orange-red strands, paws working at her bent arms in an attempt to rouse her. When had her dog learned how to talk? And she was _sure_ Hammer was a girl, and yet she sounded a lot like Walter...

The pup was nudged away and replaced by Walter himself. He gave her arm a gentle shake, effectively rousing her just enough for two large, blue eyes to open and stare up at him.

She blinked once and then twice. "Mmrr – what is 't? Is it time for breakfast?"

Just as she was moving to lift herself up out of 'bed,' her hand slipped on the fabric of Jasper's coat and she fell back down, reminded of exactly where she was when she ribs impacted the single stair she'd been sleeping on. "Oh," she muttered, suddenly remembering all that had happened the previous day. Lifting a hand to her face, she scrubbed at it, her features skewing as she tried to remember how her tongue worked. "I... what's that smell?"

"Breakfast," he replied, the tips of his moustache twisting upwards as he smiled down at her. It took her another long moment to adjust her sights to what he was holding in his hand. Tiny... wrapped and twisted at both ends... the sweet smell... "It's all I had on me."

"It's hardly a meal fit for a Hero," she heard Jasper say behind him. "But I've not yet found the kitchen, and we have no other food."

Bringing herself up into a fully seated position, Sabrina took the candy and began to unwrap it. "Have you eaten anything?" she asked, her full attention focused on her future meal. She'd never really been a fan of caramel, but she could _hear _her stomach rumbling.

"I haven't, no, but if everything works out according to our plan, I should be able to find _something_ at the Dweller camp."

Sabrina pulled at the caramel, working at it until the honey-brown candy broke into two. She handed him the larger half with a smile before popping her half into her mouth. "My mother never let me eat much candy," she said, her jaw working as she chewed. "Said everyone's teeth were bad enough in Albion. No need to add more sugar to it."

"That's why I _usually_ wash it down with a good stout," Walter replied, twisting the flimsy end of his half around his finger. It broke off, and he pulled it off of his index with his teeth. When he heard Sabrina's quiet laughter and saw her shoulders shaking beneath Jasper's coat, he couldn't help but laugh himself.

"I doubt that's much better." Rubbing at her cheek as she attempted to chew at the bulk of the caramel, she winced. "Owww. I can't believe you _like_ this stuff. It's almost masochistic."

Walter grinned, shaking his head. "There's nothing wrong with suffering a little for the sake of something tasty, right? And it's worth it, once it starts to melt." Reaching out, he patted down the bump in her hair where she'd slept on it before pulling himself up onto his feet. He turned away just as her cheeks turned bright pink and she lifted Jasper's coat to her mouth to silence the tiny, unavoidable squeak at the contact. "Jasper's been reading this book he found. Your mother left it for him; it has everything we need to know about the Sanctuary."

Pinching her brows together, Sabrina scurried onto her feet, beyond thankful that Jasper had thought to take off her shoes. "That's where we are, right?" she asked, moving over to where the two others stood. Her hands settled on the map, fingertips prodding absently at the nooks and crannies of the map's semi-realistic mountains. They both nodded. "And what does this do?"

"Evidently... it sends you wherever you want to go," Jasper quipped just as Walter was opening his mouth to reply. "It's quite extraordinary. The first stop in your travels was to be the Dweller camp. With this, your travel time will be reduced from four days to... well, there would be no travel time. It would be instant."

"That's..." Sabrina let out a short puff of air, "convenient."

Both Walter and Jasper chuckled, though Jasper's ended in a quiet cough. "Yes, madam, but you must realize how much walking would be required of you otherwise. We haven't the luxury to stop in Bowerstone market to gather supplied – least of all purchase you a decent pair of shoes – and climbing mountains in your lovely footwear would be _very_ uncomfortable."

"Ooh, will I be getting new shoes there, then?" she asked, rolling onto the balls of her feet to get a better look at the map. "Maybe something I can actually _walk_ in?"

"That was part of the plan, yes," Walter said, moving behind her to point at a particular spot on the map. "This is the Dweller camp. I've been quite a few times, and I _know_ there's a dormant cullis gate somewhere surrounding the camp. We should be able to get there through the map."

Sabrina chewed on her bottom lip, the sweet flavor of the caramel lingering in her mouth. "And if we don't? If the cullis gate doesn't activate? What'll happen then?"

Walter looked to Jasper, who stared back at him with twin bushy brows peaked. "Well, uh, we... don't really know, but it _should_ activate. You've proved that the gate can be manipulated by your magic. It should be enough to get us there and wherever else we need to go." Pausing, her mentor nudged the tiny circular plate that marked where the cullis gate would be in the camp. Everything was so detailed; even from a few feet away, she could see the gold and blue painted gate, the caravans, even a dusting of snow... or was that dust? "You just need to stand on the cullis gate and... focus? Does that sound right, Jasper?"

"If her mother was any more vague...," Jasper murmured under his breath, hefting the book up to get a better look at the words. "Yes. That does sound correct. Only Heroes are able to use the cullis gates, but others may travel with them."

"Alright! Off we go, then." Turning towards Sabrina, Walter ushered her forward in the direction of the cullis gate, standing in wait as she hurried off to slip into her shoes. Hammer trotted along at her side, sniffing around the golden disc before she was sure it safe enough to allow her master entrance. "I – well, these last two gates have been activated. I don't know how this is supposed to work. Besides the obvious."

Sabrina gave a little snort of laughter. "Obvious? What's obvious about _anything_ these days?"

"True enough," he said, stepping up onto the cullis gate with her. "I only don't know how you're supposed to go about these things. Do you all gather 'round and just... go?"

"Are you nervous?"

When he looked down at her, he saw her staring right back at him. One thing about Sabrina that had always separated her from her brother was the look of complete clarity in her expression, no matter what emotions lay behind it. There was never the obvious ulterior motive. Even her white lies were little glints of light to offset the blue. "What? Me? No, of course not –" Her brow shot up. "_Okay_, yes, I am. Jasper, don't you say a word."

"I'm nervous, too," she murmured, "though I imagine that wouldn't make you feel any better." Smiling to herself, she shifted on her feet. Hammer nuzzled the back of her skirts, trying in vain to get around her to look out into the room. "Knowing that you're nervous makes me feel better, though. Which, in return, should make you feel better, right?" She flipped her wrist over, her palms weighing each point as she moved between them. "You're probably nervous because I'm clearly nervous. Knowing you're nervous makes me less nervous. And if I'm not nervous, you might not be nervous. Making everything fine, right?"

For a moment, complete silence fell over the Sanctuary. Jasper paused his reading to look over at her, and Walter's brows pinched inward as he attempted to register what she'd just said. Even Hammer stopped moving around restlessly.

"... Right. The Dweller camp, you said?"

"The Dweller camp, yes," Jasper said, looking back at the map. "I wish you luck on your journey, madam. No ill will befall you, I'm sure."

Nodding, Sabrina straightened her posture, looking to Walter for whatever sliver of support she might need before trying to get this thing working again. She attempted to swallow her nerves, and as she lifted her gauntleted hand, the other sought out his. He looked down at their laced fingers with a shade of surprise falling over his face, but she shut her eyes soon after, forcing herself to concentrate. Before she lifted a ring of fire from the ground, she felt his hand give hers a slight squeeze.

_The Dweller camp_, she reminded herself, eyes clenched shut. _My mother often talked about Sabine. They were old friends, and she loved the Dwellers as if they were of her own. Her teenaged years as a gypsy must have had something to do with that. There are a few similarities between the people_. She could feel a wind whipping at her hair and the warm weight of Walter's hand against her palm. _The Dweller camp – that's where we're going. I can do this. This is going to work. _

Suddenly, the air tearing whirling around her went cold – _ice_ cold – and she landed on her feet. Walter did, as well, though for a moment, she believe he'd smash her hand into dust if he held on any tighter. Blinking up into the pale gray sky, he couldn't help but let out a low sigh. The rush of air from his lungs was followed by a peal of laughter, a sound of triumph she was growing used to hearing.

"Bloody hell, you did it," he said, turning his face towards her. She could see the faintest line of a smile between his moustache and beard. He was very nearly _beaming_ at her. "Again. You're making a habit of impressing me, it seems."

Despite the chill in the air, Sabrina felt the biting heat of a flush flooding her cheeks. "I'm glad, all things considered. I haven't been given much room for error."

They stood there for a moment before Sabrina's eyes fell to their hands. He was still holding onto hers very nearly as tightly as she was holding onto his. Clearing his throat, Walter let go of her hand, moving it to pat her on the back instead. "Right, well, I am going to speak to Sabine," he began, guiding her down off of the cullis gate and onto the snow-driven path. "I have a bit of gold here, enough to buy yourself something warmer to wea and maybe pass it around to some of the Dwellers."

Sabrina nodded, fingers diving into the folds of her skirt to keep them warm. Most of the Dwellers, she realized, didn't even have this small luxury. Their clothes looked warm, but they bared their arms to the icy air. And while the fires looked inviting, the sad, almost desperate expressions on their faces were otherwise.

"This is Logan's doing, isn't it?" she asked, stepping closer to Walter as he guided them up the main path. "How long has this been going on?"

"Aye, this is due to Logan. The Dweller people didn't have a problem until a few years back. Their lives were always hard, but they went from hard to damn near impossible." Walter nodded a greeting to a passing man, who barely managed a slight quirk in the corner of his mouth in response. "They're starving, and Logan's only pushing them higher and higher up into the mountains. Before long, there won't be anything for them to hunt."

He stopped walking as they reached a tall, wooden gate. Turning towards her, he settled his hands on her shoulders, chin tilted down to look into her face. "Which is why you have to find something more suitable to wear." Digging into his jacket, he removed a pouch and placed it into her hand. It was heavy, weighed down by quite a lot of gold. "Sabine won't be willing to pledge his allegiance to a princess, but he might pledge his allegiance to a Hero. A humble one. Who wears less lace."

A watery "what's wrong with my lace?" was poised on her tongue, but she bit it back. She understood why this would be necessary. She was Logan's little sister, and she'd been practically raised by him during her more formative years. Anyone with a bias might very well assume she was nothing but a young, female version of their tyrant king. "Of course," she said softly, fingers flicking at the top of the leather pouch. "I'll leave you be, then."

"And make sure to buy comfortable shoes," he called after her as she hurried off in the direction of the other caravans. As if to prove his point, he saw Sabrina wobble a little on her feet as her heel hit a snow-covered rock. Chuckling to himself, he shook his head and turned towards the gate.

It took a while for Sabrina to find the caravan she was looking for. They all looked the same, boasting the same thatched roofs, the same warm, homey exterior. So when she turned a corner and found one with a wall opened to the pathway, she stopped in her tracks. Two suits of clothes were set up for passerbys to see. One was clearly for a man, while the other was far more feminine, from the pulled scarf of a hat all the way down to the...

"Oh my gods."

She rushed forward without another word, hurrying up the stairs and into the caravan. As the shopkeeper wandered over in her direction, she bent at the waist, lifting up the layered fabric of the skirt to reveal the large, fuzzy boots that lay beneath. Biting down on her bottom lip to keep herself from squealing in utter delight, she picked them up to get a closer look.

"Interested in buyin' anything, miss?" he asked, leaning against the mannequin holding the masculine outfit. "I think that would look good on you. An' those boots'll do you a lot of good out here in the snow. Those shoes you're wearin' now will only get you stuck. Not very comfortable lookin', either."

"They're really not," she murmured, her voice almost as distant as the look in her eye. "These are amazing."

The shopkeeper grinned, revealing a missing front tooth. "So... what's a pretty girl like you doing with her father all the way up here in the mountains? You're not lookin' to move up here, are ya? If you are, I can bet you'd be better off wherever you were, no matter your reasons."

Sabrina looked up from the boots to his face again, her brows knitting in confusion. Well, this fellow certainly was nosy. "He's not my father," she replied.

"Then what's a pretty girl like you doing with _husband _that old, huh?"

"He's not my husband, either." Her throat tightened, and she had to look back at the wares before she glared at him. "And he's not _that_ old. Certainly no older than you are, sir." Clearing her throat, she opened the pouch and began shifting through the gold. "How much is this full suit?"

Once the transaction was finished, she hurried behind the caravan to change as discreetly as humanly possible given their closeness to the woods. Hammer stood at the treeline, giving her a warning of a bark every time someone got too close, sending her hopping farther into the woods as she struggled to put on the tights she'd been given with the suit of clothes. The vest, while thicker than anything she'd ever worn, was sleeveless, which made absolutely no sense to her.

Rubbing away the growing chill on her forearms, she sat down on a fallen tree. The boots sat in front of her, all warm and tall and welcoming, and she couldn't help but grin to herself as she pulled them on. Whatever snow had gathered on her striped tights dissolved into the thick fur that lined the boots, pulling a contented sigh straight from Sabrina's chest.

"Oh, that's good," she murmured, slouching forward as she planted both feet into the snow. "That's _really_ good." Warmth spread up from her feet and into her calves, and this heat continued even farther. Despite her decided lack of sleeves, even her _arms_ felt warmer. She pushed herself onto her feet, hurrying out of the forest to return to Hammer, her old clothes bundled up under her arms. The shoes, however, would never been found again. Lost in the snow, she resolved to tell Jasper. Very tragic. She'd felt almost lost without them.

When in reality, the moment she was alone, she'd unlaced them and kicked them off as far as she possibly could. She wouldn't have been surprised if she'd kicked them over to the other side of the mountain in her relief.

The next solid hour was spent wandering around the Dweller camp. As Walter had suggested, she began giving some of them coins from the pouch. While she had no true bias, anyone with a heart would have bent the way she did at the sight of those tiny, round faces with their large, innocent eyes. They were hungry. These precious children were hungry because of her brother's "enterprising rule." She could _feel_ the bile building in her throat as the pouch grew lighter and lighter.

When she decided that Walter must have finished speaking to Sabine, she began to make her way towards the gate again. What had they spoken about? Would she finally be able to meet him? She was eager to pledge herself to him, to help make the situation better for his people. But she was also nervous. Nervous and... Her nostrils flared, taking up the scent that filled the air. She was nervous and _hungry_.

Glancing around in a search for where the smell was coming from, her eyes finally rested on a makeshift stall on the side of one of the caravans. There was a fire just beside it, over which was a spit. The spit was being turned by an older woman, her sights set on cooking the rabbit to crispy perfection.

Sabrina's lips smacked as her mouth watered. She hadn't eaten anything since that time the previous day, and even then, she hadn't eaten much due to a lack of appetite.

"Are ya hungry, love?" the woman asked. Her smile was a kind one. In fact, her disposition was much sweeter than the shopkeeper's had been. "I can see ya eying the rabbit somethin' fierce, like you're half expectin' it to jump right off the spit."

"Yes, ma'am," Sabrina replied, grabbing at the pouch. It was even lighter than she'd expected it to be, and when she looked inside of it, a scant five coins jingled at the bottom. It was impossible for her to keep from looking utterly heartbroken when she looked back up at the woman. "It's alright, though. I don't have the coin to –"

The woman shook her head. "You're the lady everyone's been talkin' about," she said, lifting the spit off of the fire and bringing the roasted fare over to her stall. Setting it on a block of wood to carve it into manageable bites, she nodded to Sabrina, a gesture for her to move closer. "You gave my granddaughter fifteen of your gold pieces. She came runnin' up the path, shouting about how there was a lady giving out 'free gold.'" Her lips spread in another smile when she heard Sabrina laugh to herself. "Told me the lady had bright orange hair, like the sun when it's not hidin' behind the clouds."

Sabrina's eyes fell to the strands of hair that refused to stay pulled back into the dark red scarf, and she grinned. "Yes, that was me. I really wish there was more that I could do."

"You can eat," the woman said, offering her a slender skewer on which the still-steaming rabbit meat was stuck through. "And you can return to whatever you were doing. We'll find our way well enough. I have a feelin' you already have helped us a great deal."

"Thank you," Sabrina whispered before taking a hearty bite out of one of the pieces of meat. "And thank you so much for this," she continued once she finished chewing. "It's delicious." The woman nodded before turning to finish cutting the rest of the meat for the others. She, too, twisted around and continued making her way up the path to where she'd last seen Walter.

He was there waiting for her in exactly the same spot as before. When he saw her, he cracked into a grin. "Who are _you_?" he asked, a teasing lilt running the length of his inquiry. "You look a lot like this princess I know. Just about the same height." His hand hovered over the top of her head as if sizing her up, eyes falling to the skewer she'd already eaten half of. "Same appetite, too, from the looks of it."

"I was hungry," she replied, her cheeks puffed out slightly from the last, only half-chewed bite. Holding out the skewer in his direction, she tried to smile, only managing to bear her teeth a little. "Want some?"

"You're hungry, and you bought that with _your_ gold. You eat it."

"It was your gold, though."

Walter huffed, a puff of smoke leaving him as his breath hit the cold air. "I gave it to you," he replied. "So don't try to work your way around it. It's yours to eat, and you need your strength."

Sabrina didn't need much more persuasion when it came to hurriedly finishing off the rabbit. As she chewed happily on the final bite, Walter reached forward, pushing the scarf back a little on her head. She'd tied it too close to her face anyway. "You did good, Sabrina," he chuckled. "The scruffy look suits you."

The guards standing on both sides of the gate looked over, concerned, when Sabrina started coughing. She'd been nearly finished, a few chews away from having all of it safely nestled away in her stomach, when she heard him say that. She'd been doing so well lately. She hadn't fallen. She hadn't accidentally said something. She hadn't done a single embarrassing thing in hours.

Walter gave her a stiff pat on the back as Sabrina pounded her fist into her chest. Finally, the bit of rabbit lodged in her throat righted itself and she was able to breathe again. "I didn't mean it as a slight, you know," he muttered, voice lowered to only something she could hear.

"I know," she squeaked, flapping her hand at him as she straightened herself. Clearing her throat, she managed a tiny apologetic smile to both of the other men before looking to Walter. "I wasn't offended."

_Well, that was bloody awkward_, she thought to herself, staring blankly at the gate separating them from Sabine. "So... uhm, Sabine? Did you speak to him?"

"Ah! Yes, I did. I explained everything, just as I said I would," Walter began, clearly thankful for this reprieve from asking her if she was alright this once. "He's... well, he's going to take some convincing, but I'm sure you could manage. From the looks of your purse, I can see you've done wonders for this encampment already. I just hope they don't spend it all in one place."

Looking to the guardsmen, they nodded to Walter, pushing open the gates and allowing them entrance. "Come on," he said, opening an arm in an arc to usher her forward.

They made their way through the gates only to be stopped by a very large, very imposing man. His arms were nearly the width of her waist; she was sure of it. They were barred over his heavily muscled chest, and he stared down at her with small eyes she could barely see from beneath the shadowed canopy of his large hat. For a long time, they stared at each other, though Sabrina was the first to move, her throat bobbing as she fought to swallow back her nerves.

"Out of the way, Boulder," an airy, heavily accented voice came from behind the wall of a man who stood before them. "How can I be expected to see a thing with _you_ standing in the way of them, hm?"

Grinning at her, the man – Boulder – set his large hand atop her head, patting it indelicately enough to nearly knock the scarf completely off. When he was satisfied with his greeting, he turned, grunting, and made his way over to stand beside the throne. Hammer followed him, chasing the behemoth's shadow all the way to his little stump beside where Sabine sat.

Sabine himself was... not who she was expecting. While she hadn't known exactly what to expect, a tiny, dark-skinned man with a bare chest wouldn't have been a very likely stem of her imagination.

As she moved towards him, Walter let go of her shoulder, walking yards behind her. He wanted to see what she'd make of Sabine on her own, just as he wanted to see what Sabine would make of her. "So royalty walks into our home. A princess, no less." Standing up from his throne, he took the few stairs down from his throne, the bells on the curved ends of his shoes jingling with each step. "You're a long way from the Castle, princess."

With each step that drew him closer, the volume of his voice actually grew. "And what do you think of our home, then?" he asked, sharply despite the rolling cadences of his accented speech. "Do you _like_ what your brother has done to us?"

"No," Sabrina started. She was offended anyone would assume that she agreed with her brother on a matter like this. She couldn't see how _anyone_ would agree with her brother when it came to this. "No, of course not. I want to help you. That's why I'm here!"

"So you want to _help_ us, do you?" He looked to Boulder to see that he was distracted by the affectionate canine the princess had brought with her. "These mountains are ours. They always have been. Now Logan is taking them and is stripping them of all life." His gnarled, ringed hand clenched into a fist not a foot in front of her face for emphasis. "Oh, yes, we are ready to go to war, but you are Logan's kin. Why should we trust the likes of you?"

Sabrina stared at him for a long moment, truly unsure of what to say. Why _should_ he trust her? If she were in his position, she knew she wouldn't trust her. This man was lording over his people while they starved. There must have been a weight on his shoulders unlike anything she'd ever even considered. "Because I'm _not Logan_," she said, a heat bleeding into her voice that she hadn't even thought herself capable of producing. "You can trust me. You have my **word**."

Sabine scoffed, his hand slicing downward in another emphatic gesture. "Just what are we going to do with words in these parts, hm? You can't hunt words. You can't eat or trade words. You can't use words to keep warm at night." Taking a step back, he ascended the few steps to his throne, turning and sitting down on it. "We're simple folk here, princess. We'll need more than words. Ain't that right, Boulder?"

A grunt was heard from her right, though his second was clearly more than content with paying attention to Hammer, who lapped happily at his bare chest.

"Then what do you _want_?" Sabrina asked. As much as she fought to keep the pleading from her voice, she couldn't keep it at bay. "What can I do to show you that you can trust me?"

"Proof."

"... Proof?"

Sabine nodded. "First, I want proof that you are what Walter claims you are, a Hero." Before she could ask how this could be proven, he leaned back on his throne, fingers lacing in front of him. "There is a secret chamber beneath the town of Brightwall, built by your own mother. Only _Heroes_ could survive its trials and reach the relics within. Bring me one of these ancient objects, and I will believe you."

It was Sabrina's turn to nod, though she did so with paled cheeks. "Second, you have to prove that you are a warrior worthy of leading us into battle. Ah, I can see another question in those eyes of yours." Shifting forward on his seat, he pointed a thin finger outwards in a very particular direction. "You can do this by slaying the mercenaries who plague Mistpeak Valley. They sour our very existence, they do."

"That's a lot of merce-"

"_Third_," Sabine interrupted, holding up three fingers, "prove that you are a true leader by persuading our neighbors in Brightwall to share what food they have with us. _Boulder_." Boulder grunted, rolling his eyes and standing from his stump. Hammer fell down to all fours, giving a broken whine in Sabine's direction. "We have to eat, or we will die. And the dead, princess, make poor allies."

Sab's mouth hung open for a few racing heartbeats. "Is that... all?"

"Yep! That's the lot!" Sabine smiled, bearing a mouth full of oddly large teeth as he reached out to turn her around. "Off you go, then! Good luck, and nice knowing you!" When she was finally on her way out, he plucked up a cigar and stuck it in his mouth, kicking his feet up on the side of his throne.

As the gate closed behind them, Sabrina looked at Walter with wide eyes. He chuckled warmly. "Well, it's good to see old Sabine hasn't mellowed with age."

"Walter," she whispered, her voice dropping, "he's _crazy_."

"Not crazy," he said, chuckle turning into a laugh. He curled an arm around her shoulders to guide her down the pathway to the cullis gate. "Interesting, perhaps. All this fresh, mountain air must do wonders for a person's individuality." Looking down at her, he lifted a hand to her face, giving her chin a nudge. "Don't look so _put out_, Sabrina. It's a mighty list of things, but you're not gonna be doing them alone."

Sabrina worked her jaw, her eyes falling to the ground in front of him as a smile curled at her lips. "Well, maybe not, but I still say he's crazy."

* * *

**A/N: **Heeee, them. I do love them. Ahem. OKAY SO. I have something to show you guys! Sadly, I can't really link things in these updates, buuuut if you'll go look for ~esuerc at deviantart, you'll be able to see the lovely, amazing, wonderful picture she drew for this story! It's actually a very big hint about the chapter that's coming up! (I'm sure you'll all figure it out rather quicklike, too, once you see it~ :3) I hope you guys enjoyed this. It was a blast to write. I think Walter and Jasper are my favorites, but Boulder? I LOVE BOULDER.


	9. Chapter VII : An Ally Lost

Val set her feet down on the ground, taking another nibble from the sweet flesh of her apple. "He's asking quite a lot, isn't he? I mean, she _just_ escaped from the castle. How's she supposed to take on an entire mercenary camp by herself?"

"One thing you have to know about Sabine before we go any farther, princess, is that he wasn't asking a lot. Many people asked many things from your mother, but they _never_ asked too much. Never."

"But she was so young!"

Laughing, the storyteller shook his head. "She was two years older than you are today, Val. Nineteen." When Val opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that her mother's immaturity at her age made the comparison a faulty one, he continued, effectively cutting off her speech. "She was already considered an adult by any normal standards. If she hadn't been a princess, she'd have been married with a half-score children by then. Luckily for her and all of us, she _was_ a princess. A young and unmarried one who'd never stepped outside the castle's walls."

"I don't know what I'd do if you told me tomorrow that I had to leave Fairfax and start a revolution," she said, "but I do know that I'm damned good with a blade."

"That's because you've been training with it for so long. Sabrina was stubborn and didn't pick it up until Logan made her believe it was necessary. Still, you needn't worry about leaving your comfy abode to start a rebellion." Ben grinned, a dimple carving into her cheek. "A normal person wouldn't have been able to make it past Sabine's first trial, and the revolution would've never begun. It took a Hero – your _mother_ – and her followers to accomplish what seemed impossible." He gave Val a pat on her back. "That's the point."

"But she's been... well, she's been kind of inept so far," she pressed, letting her arm fall across her lap. The apple was dangerously close to rolling out of her hand and onto the ground, but she held onto it as tightly as she could. "How did she manage Sabine's second trial?"

Ben rested his hands behind him, calloused fingers tapping against the carved stone lining the bench. "Weren't you listening? Sir Walter told her she wasn't alone. He wasn't _lying_ to her."

"So... he went with her?"

The general nodded, and Val's face brightened. "Indeed he did. While I'd love to say that everything went according to Walt's genius plan, but... well, the story wouldn't be very much of a story if everything went right, would it?"

* * *

The music box made a solid _clunk_ when she set it heavily upon the table. Walter looked up from the foamy rim of his ale to Sabrina's face to see that her normally flushed cheeks were stained a dark red. She'd been gone since noonday, having stomped off on her own with a determined tilt to her stride, and her entrance into the tavern had been marked by a cold, nighttime wind.

"The music box," she said, motioning towards the rusted trinket with a wave of her hand, "I hope Sabine is happy with my discovery." Pulling out the chair opposite him, she went to sit down, but whimpered when the blade of her sword hit the seat. She swerved her hip to the side, clutching the hilt to her waist to give her room enough to sit. He was surprised to see that there was a pistol holstered at her other side. The two weapons were new; she'd entered the reliquary with no more than her magical gauntlet. "Though I can't see why he would be. It's... a sentimental object of no monetary value."

Clearing her throat, Sabrina moved to slouch, only to be denied the luxury by her sword. She lifted a hand to her face, rubbing at her forehead. "Part of me doesn't want to give it to him... I _know_ that music box. It was a treasure of my mother's, not just some shiny thing that she picked up during her travels."

"I know, Sabrina." When Walter finally spoke, his voice was garbled slightly from the ale he'd consumed during his wait. "He's not heartless. We can speak to him about it once this is over with."

Reaching out, she nudged the music box forward. She'd fought through waves of ghouls raised out of the very ground, their limbs of bone powered by nothing more than wisps of light. They snapped at her with their degraded jaws, clawed at her, fought to slice her with their chipped and dulled cleavers. No matter how quickly she was able to dispatch most of them with her fire, they were still merciless, and the skirt of her Dweller outfit bore the remnants of their attacks.

Walter lifted a hand to a passing barmaid, getting her attention for just long enough to ask her to bring them another pint and something for her to eat before she swished off to tend to the other patrons. She returned not long after, toting with her a foamy pint and a meat pie set upon a heavy pewter plate.

"When this is over,"she murmured. Lifting the meat pie, she took a bite out of it, her brows knitting together as she forced herself to choke down a bite. "Right."

There was a roughened edge to her voice that didn't fit her. She looked so tired. It was a complete change from the vibrant young woman she'd left behind at the castle not four days prior, and yet she seemed stronger, determined even in her exhaustion. "Yes. When this is over." Walter reached out, picking up the music box and placing it in his palm. He lifted it to take a better look at it. Sabrina knew this music box, but so did he. Lionheart hadn't been secretive when it came to her beginnings, no matter how humble. "Until then, he'll keep it safe."

"It was safe where it was!" Sabrina's face skewed, a blue flame lighting her eyes. "Samuel said it'd been untouched for _years_. Since my mother _put it there_. Why did I have to disturb it?"

"Sacrifices and faith, princess," he replied. He wasn't usually one for being abstract. There wasn't any use to it. Why say something when someone might not understand it? "You must give things up for your cause and trust that once you've succeeded, everything will fall into place."

"My cause?" she asks. Her voice is a mere ghost of its former self, though when she spoke next, the volume slowly rose. She drifted forward in her chair, her palms pressed into the roughly hewn table. "This is _not_ my cause. This is your cause, and you're dragging me and my bloody **legacy** along with you!" Her eyes filled with tears, setting the tavern's fare back down on the table. The moment her forearms set down upon the table, her shoulders caved inward. They began quivering after a moment. Bringing her wrist up to her eyes, she wiped at them with her palms, unwilling to brush her greasy fingertips on her face. "I'm sorry."

Walter shook his head, bringing his pint up to his lips. He took a long swallow before putting it back down. "Don't apologize." He smiled faintly. "'The reluctant hero' is a cliché for a reason."

He found himself smiling a little wider as the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. She'd read enough fantastical stories to be well-aware of the clichés that surrounded them. The irony of her desires and her current situation wasn't lost on her. "I'm just tired," she said, sniffing back whatever tears remained in her eyes. "And this meat pie is greasy. And I smell bad."

"You smell like an adventurer!"

"I'd rather not," she replied, breaking off a half-soggy, half-flaky bit of crust and popping it into her mouth. "I could do with a bath."

Grinning, Walter have a little ripple of laughter. "True. It's unpleasant after living in the castle so long." He didn't give her time enough to protest, as her complaints at the smell had been exaggerated. She didn't smell _that_ bad. Jasper had found a basin in the Sanctuary, and she'd washed up once or twice since. "But it'll help you blend in when we head to Saker's camp."

Sabrina's brow sloped upwards. "We?"

"You didn't think I was going to let you go alone, did you?" At that, he stood from his chair. "I had an idea. One I think will work rather well, considering the mercenaries I've come into contact with wouldn't know a painted rock from a lump of gold."

* * *

"Walter," Sabrina murmured, her arm sliding around his. Yards ahead of them, the mercenary camp's front gate loomed seemingly halfway into the sky. Logs twice her width were banded together to form this impressive door, large square holes cut into it for the sake of peering outwards at those who approached. She hugged herself against his arm, one hand clutched around his wrist while the other held onto his forearm. "I really don't like this idea."

Patting her shoulder with his opposite hand, Walter smiled down at her. "This isn't the first time I've infiltrated an enemy camp, you know," he murmured, voice low as if he expected someone to overhear, even from such a distance. "When I was younger, your mother... put me in a few compromising situations. When I was much, _much_ younger."

Sabrina managed a little bubble of a laugh. "What d'you mean? What sort of situations?"

"Well, you know Bloodstone's reputation, don't you?" he asked. When she nodded, he gave his head a little shake. "There was a guild of assassins working out of the port, led by a woman called Scarlet. This wasn't because of the color of her hair or her clothes, but the fact that she had three scars across her cheek from the claws of a balverine. Well, she was fairly notorious in the area, which is never good for an assassin, especially not one under your mother's reign."

Sabrina was aware of all that her mother had done, as well as Lionheart's occupation with all things good. After years of living on the wrong side of the law, she'd had a change of heart. Most say it happened after her time in the Spire, but everyone around the former Queen knew better. It was the death of Lucien Fairfax that changed her. That relief, the ebbing of her long-standing need for revenge, pressed her forward, turning her into a completely different person. It made her the leader Albion needed.

"It wasn't her reputation when it came to her job that gave her so much of this notoriety, but her penchant for booze and... whores."

"Oh _gods_," she snorted. "You didn't."

Walter laughed at that. "It was by order of the queen," he replied. "I didn't have much of a choice. She even supplied the uniform."

When the princess' eyes widened, he couldn't help but continue his story. Ever since the ordeal with Logan days before, he hadn't seen her light up in such a way. He should've known; she was always a sucker for a good story. "As I said, I was much younger at the time, perhaps twenty-three. I had the... form she liked in her entertainment."

Up ahead, they heard a loud noise when one of the two windows were flung open. A shadowed figure crowded his wide shoulders into it, thrusting forward with enough force to lodge himself halfway out. "Oi! Jimmy, is that you?"

"Aye!" Walter shouted his response.

The mercenary grinned a nearly toothless grin before wriggling out of the window. "Boys! Looks like Jimmy got himself a lay-_dee_!"

Sabrina's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Even the man's _tone_ was so lascivious it made her skin crawl. 'Himself' sounded more like 'us' on his tongue, and the very thought of it sent her stomach churning. "Well, that's a-" Her cheeks burned as she hurried to catch up with Walter's quickened pace. Voice lowering, she looked up at him. "That's a bit presumptuous isn't it?"

"I'm a mercenary bringing an attractive young woman into camp," Walter said, his eyes focused on the gate as it was opened. "Of course it's not presumptuous."

If she hadn't been so daunted by the idea of what was happening, she might have blushed. She might have even remembered the compliment past the first moment after it passed his lips. But she was too caught up in the anticipation, too caught up in regulating her breathing and fighting off the fraying of her nerves.

As they made their way up the winding, dusty path towards the main camp, Sabrina chewed on her bottom lip. Her eyes darted around as she took in her surroundings. Every tree, every boulder, every ragged flag on every splintered mast – she took it all in, eager to focus her attention on something other than the fact that she was walking through a mercenary camp... with the intention of killing their leader.

When they finally reached the camp, Walter made it a point to slow their strides. This was supposed to be his home, after all. Stupid though they might've been, mercenaries could tell when someone was ill at ease in their presence, no doubt because it happened so often around them. "Just... keep your eyes on me. You're supposed to be my, ah... _lay-dee_, after all." He paused, glancing down at her as they rounded the corner. He hoped his teasing would lift her spirits in some small way, but he saw that it hadn't. She looked just as terrified as before. "It'll keep you from looking so paranoid. Not that I don't understand. You have every right to be paranoid."

"That's comforting," was her only reply. It was obvious in the sarcastic lilt of her voice that she didn't believe herself anymore than he did.

Their attention was torn from the road ahead by a shout. "Hey! Jimmy!" Walter twisted his head towards the mercenary to see he was standing next to another. They were both grinning, clearly pleased with Jimmy's approach. At least, that's what Walter had assumed before they said another word. "Let us have a taste after you're done with 'er, alright? Stilts here's a sodding virgin! Can ya believe it?"

Stilts slugged him in the shoulder, though a ruddy blush swam up his cheeks and over his slick, shiny head. "I just 'aven't met the right girl, is all!"

"She look like the right girl, Stilts?" the other snorted, slapping him on the back.

"I dunno," Stilts confessed, shaking his head. "She doesn't have very big breasts, does she? I like big, biiig—" he motioned outwards from his chest with his hands before bouncing them a little, "_big_ breasts. I can 'ardly even see hers from all the way over here. Lemme take a closer..."

His step forward awarded him a shock enough to nearly knock him on his ass. Walter's pistol exploded, burying a bullet deep into the ground right in front of his feet. When he spoke, he took on an accent similar to theirs. "You better keep your grubby hands off 'er, right?" he nearly growled, lifting his pistol up in warning. "She's bloody well spoken for."

"Oi, oi, no need to get all _violent_," Stilts whimpered, holding his hands up. "I don't want 'er anyway."

"Yeah, she looks all skittish and the like," the other mercenary chimed in. "I didn't know you liked 'em docile, Jimmy. Ain't got a fight in 'er, from the looks of it."

_You'd be surprised_, Sabrina mused to herself, though even her thoughts quavered in fearful surprise. They weren't serious, were they? She knew she shouldn't have expected much of mercenaries, but this was beyond even what she'd imagined. Did they take turns? If the real Jimmy brought a woman back to their camp, would they have sent her around to all of them?

She shuddered at Walter's side. He felt the change in her and slipped his arm away from her grasp, curling it around her shoulders instead. He pulled her closer until she pressed into his side, his thumb rubbing a comforting circle over the shoulder not facing the two men. "You'd be surprised," he retorted, though it was more of a threat than a vote of confidence on his tongue. It was as if he was telling them, 'Just try it. Touch her, and see how much fight _I_ have.'

That's all it took for Stilts and the other man to look away, occupying themselves with something far more interesting than having their spine torn from their throats.

They made their way through the camp without much pause from there. Walter's newly discovered imperiousness led the mercenaries to keep to themselves, continuing on their tasks no matter how distracting having a woman in the camp usually was. They knew better. Either Jimmy had a reputation despite his inability to hold his liquor or Walter cast a particularly frightening shadow with his pistol held at his side and his arm wrapped protectively around Sabrina's shoulders.

She held on as tightly as she could manage, her hand clutching onto his dark shirt until her knuckles gleamed white. "Don't let them scare you, Sabrina," Walter whispered to her. "And don't put any stock in what they have to say. There's _nothing_ wrong with you."

"Tell me more about your days as a prostitute," she said, though her words were nearly muffled by how close she was pressed against him. She stared up at him with eyes as wide as saucers. How anyone could deny her, he'd never know. He didn't want to spoil her – she had to harden herself if she was going to be a good queen – but it was only a story. "Maybe it'll make me feel better."

A chuckle ran through him, and the warm rumble of it made her feel the slightest bit better. "Want to have a laugh at my expense, then?" When he saw her cheeks twitch in a small smile, he shook his head. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

Sabrina murmured a quiet, "You won't."

"Well," he continued, dipping his head down so he could speak to her in little more than a whisper and not be overheard. "I spent the better part of a week being propositioned by women – and even men – before I caught Scarlet's attention. When I finally did, she took me back to her hideout for the... transaction."

Sabrina could feel her cheeks warm. While Walter assumed it was due to the rather bawdy nature of the tale, to her it was quite different. It was jealousy, no matter how useless. She didn't even know how the story ended. He could've very well killed her, and she was walking beside him now, very nearly green with envy. Clearing her throat for him to continue, she looked back towards the path.

Walter gave her shoulder a pat. "She took me back, right into the middle of her assassins, and I thought I was as dead as dead could be. But your mother had other plans. Broke right into the place with damn near half of the Royal Army. Brought the entire clan in and put them on trial." He paused and a light of remembrance lit up his dark eyes. "They all died, of course. They had a list of names a mile long of all the people they'd killed."

"Jimmy! Is that you?"

'Jimmy' looked towards the voice. A mercenary leaned on a wooden post, pulling himself as close to Walter as he could without falling over. "You look different somehow. I can't place it." Tapping on his bottom lip, he narrowed his eyes in thought. "It ain't the lady, either. Huh. Were your eyes always that color?"

The mercenary facing him turned around. He was much closer, and he was able to get a good look at Walter's face. "Nah, Jimmy's got periwinkle eyes," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the other. "Like a beautiful summer morning sky." When the compliment hit an awkward silence, the realization of his conclusion had him gasping. "That's not him!"

"Sabrina, distance yourself!" Walter shouted before giving her a shove in the opposite direction, grabbing for the hilt of his sword with his other hand. He drew the blade just as one of the mercenaries brought his hammer down in a wide sweep. Narrowly avoiding being hit, he watched as the hammer hit the ground. The prongs at the very end dug into the dirt, and Walter stepped down on it, lifting himself up and buying it deeper in the same movement. Knowledge of exactly what had just happened took a while to dawn on the man, and he could see a shade of recognition in his eyes before he drove his sword between his ribs.

Pushing his sword to the side, he could hear the man's bones snap, even over his gurgling and the sounds of shouts filling the mercenary camp. He dropped the hammer, and Walter stepped off of it, ripping his blade from the man's chest. He swished it downward, blood flinging from the sword to draw a gash of red onto the ground.

Behind him, Sabrina had drawn her pistol, ducking behind a nearby rock to shield herself from the rifle shots aimed at her. She popped up, aimed, and shot. The mercenary running towards her fell to his knees, a gushing would in his thigh stopping him in his tracks. Before she could shoot at him again, Walter smashed the hilt of his sword into the back of his neck. He twisted the blade around almost effortlessly as the man fell, face first, into the grass. He poised the tip of the blade just beneath his skull and pounded his fist into his sword's hilt, breaking the merc's neck and nearly beheading him.

Sabrina just barely kept herself from gasping, silenced by the sound of a bullet whizzing past her head only to splinter the wooden wall behind her. A bright orange glow flickered to life in her palm, but she didn't immediately toss it at him. She paused, and Walter could see her hesitating. He could see the look of calculation and focus on her face. He wouldn't dispatch this man himself.

Instead, he waited for her to push her palm in the man's direction, her fingers splayed wide as a fireball catapulted itself in the merc's direction. His clothes caught fire immediately, the flames only intensified by the lingering alcohol that dribbled down the front of his shirt.

"Finish him off!" Walter shouted, and she drew her pistol a second time. The man was panicking; screaming. He was moving too quickly for her to focus. What else would one do if on fire? Launching over the boulder, Sabrina ran forward, the wide soles of her boots kicking up clouds of dust as she darted in his direction. Her pistol was replaced at her side and her sword drawn. It was lighter than her training sword, but far too much for her to handle well. Lifting it up above her head, she gave him access to her belly, but she didn't give him time enough to take advantage of it.

In a swing that was meant to lob his head from his shoulders, Sabrina's sword bit into the bands of muscle between his neck and shoulder. The blade dug deep, but only far enough to pierce the artery in his throat, not far enough to behead. She was hardly lucid enough to be disappointed at that point, too frantic with nerves to react properly to her first kill as the man sunk forward. His hands grasped blindly onto her arms, the wound at his neck gushing so horribly that their grips slipped. He fell forwards, and she stumbled backwards, caught at the last moment before she hit the ground.

"We have a lot to do," he said, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. It'd been torn away by the fight as well as Sabrina's show of skill. When had she learned how to do any of this? The last time he'd seen her fight, she'd caught a few bats on fire. While she could use a healthy bit of confidence, she was already turning into a very impressive fighter. Whatever Theresa had shown her must have had an effect. "I just want you to know that you're doing a bloody marvelous job of it so far."

Her face had paled since the beginning of the fight, and now it was stained red from her desperately trying to wipe off whatever blood the man's torn artery had gushed at her, only serving to smear more onto her cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered, pulling herself to her feet. "Just... stay close?"

Walter set his hand on her shoulder, "Of course, of course. Always."

And he stayed close. While Sabrina's skills were still in the beginning stages, he soon discovered that she was a quick study - a quick study who enjoyed explosions. After she'd hurled her first fireball into a keg of gunpowder by accident, she went out of her way to send them and whoever stood in front of them into flames. But there were always moments when Walter feared she'd been hurt or that she'd end up dead if he didn't do a better job helping her out.

They fought and fought, tearing their way through waves of nameless, faceless mercenaries as they moved towards where Walter knew they would find Saker. He stabbed. She set them on fire. He shot. She narrowly missed. He stabbed again. She attempted to do the same, more often than not accidentally succeeding.

Finally, they found themselves standing before a shoddily erected ring of logs. Each side of the entrance was decorated with Saker's flag. It was a good enough hint towards where they might very well be entering.

"So... this is it," Sabrina breathed. Her face was a mess of ash and blood, but the adrenaline that pumped through her veins kept her from looking even the slightest bit afraid of what she was going to be facing. Even a few nights before, when she'd killed those bats with Walter's aid, proving to herself that she had the ability to do something was enough to push aside whatever doubts and insecurities that might have kept her from putting her all into the fight from the very first.

"That it is," Walter replied. She could see the sweat smearing down from his hairline, digging trails through the lines on his forehead and the layers of dirt and blood. "Can't turn back now."

Setting her jaw, she shook her head. That wasn't even an option. It never had been, not since she'd first come into contact with the blind seer. She had to do this; she was the last true Hero left after her mother's death. Albion needed a revolution. If she had to be the one to do it, she would. She wouldn't shirk her responsibility. "I don't want to," was her quiet reply. "My mother spent most of her reign fighting back mercenaries and the like. I'll do the same if I have to. And it looks like I do have to."

Walter nodded, his hand settling on the hilt of his sword. "You'd have made your mother proud, you know. Today, especially. Having to accept the weight of things she didn't want on her shoulders was a gift of hers."

"I know," Sabrina murmured, managing a half-tilt of a smile in his direction. "I'll... I'll go first."

Before her mentor could protest, Sabrina moved forward. Her walk was slow, though the trudge was born more out of the sudden tension in her muscles than gravitas. Glancing around the ring, she saw a horde of mercenaries looking down at her, all more than amused by her situation. Some of them were even eating, strips of dried meat grinding between their teeth as they laughed and pointed towards the young woman at the center of the ring.

Walter took a step forward to join her only to have the door closed in his face, the ropes holding it up having been cut on Saker's word. For a long moment, he stood there, too dumbfounded by this to move. It wasn't until he heard Saker's voice that he launched into action. "Leave her!" the mercenary leader shouted, his smoke-roughened voice nearly echoing around the chamber. "She's _mine_."

The tone of his voice sent a chill down Walter's spine. Drawing his sword, he ran to the right, searching almost desperately for some way to get up onto the ring. Even as he climbed the rickety stairs at the very back, his sword finding the flesh of whatever mercenary got in his way, he could hear Saker mocking her. "You and that old man of yours left quite a trail of bodies. You're not one of Sabine's Dwellers, that's for damn sure."

As Walter mounted the final staircase and entered the ring, he saw Saker hop down onto the ground directly in front of her. It wasn't the scarred, mutilated face of the mercenary leader that surprised him, but the fact that she hadn't budged. She wasn't looking around, searching for some sign of his help. She wasn't waiting for him to help her. No, she was already building a fist of flames as Saker pulled himself up to full height, standing head and shoulders over her. "Oh, but you'll die like one."

He removed a bottle of alcohol from the belt at his waist, lifting the white cloth dipped into the liquid to his mouth to press it against the glowing ember of his cigar. When the cloth set fire, he cocked his arm back and hurled it at her. The makeshift bomb arced through the air, but it fell short. The ball of fire she'd conjured on her palm hurtled towards it, and the bottle exploded in a rain of flames directly between them.

"Fancy trick, little girl," Saker growled, pulling another out of his belt. He beckoned her closer with his free hand as he held the cloth up to his cigar. "Come here and see if you can fight fair."

"You call that fighting fair?" she asked. "Hurling bombs at a _little girl_?"

He drew the bottle away from his mouth, plucking his cigar out next. Glancing up towards the stands, he watched as yet another limp body was flung over the side, another shouting spectator silenced by the old man's sword. Screw 'em, he could wipe the stadium with this child and then do the same with him. "If the little girl's gonna use witchcraft? Yeah."

"It's not witchcraft," she told him, "It's Will."

"Yeah, yeah, and you're some bloody Hero, ain'tcha?"

"I am."

Sabrina didn't budge as Saker let out a loud guffaw of laughter. "Right, and I'm the sodding king of Albion, runnin' this fine establishment to waste time in between royal engagements."

_Don't do it, Sabrina_, Walter thought as he looked down towards where she was standing. He could see the defiant tilt of her chin even from this distance. _Don't tell him. Keep it a secret. He'll only – _

"That's funny," she retorted, both palms curling around steadily growing balls of fire. She even dared to take a step forward, something that surprised even her. If someone had told her days ago that she would meet Saker face to face (or, rather, face to chest) and actually stand up to him, she'd have laughed at them. "You don't look anything like my brother."

"Ya hear that gentlemen?" he called out to his mercenaries, either ignorant to their steadily decreasing numbers or uncaring. "We have a Hero _and_ a princess in our midst. Aren't we so bloody fortunate?"

Sabrina hefted her shoulders upward, drawing her pistol with surprising speed and pressing the trigger. The barrel exploded, and the bullet lodged into the enormous man's shoulder. It hardly made him stagger. That didn't stop her from lodging another bullet into him in nearly the same spot. This time, it only served to make him more angry.

Bending at the waist, he ran at her. For such a large man, he was relatively quick on his feet, bridging the gap between them with such speed that she almost didn't have time to roll away from him. He rammed his good shoulder into a thick wooden column, and Sabrina cringed as she heard it splinter. She didn't want to think about what something like that would've done to her.

The battle itself was poorly matched. She could hardly get more than a shot at him before he was running towards her again or slamming his fists so hard into the ground that the blow knocked her backwards. As Walter made his way through the mercenaries quickly enough to only miss one or two who jumped into the ring, he watched her fight. Saker's peons were nothing compared to what was going on in the ring, and he mentally cursed himself for letting her enter first. Why had he let her go first? Either he should've been the one down there, or they both should've been down there.

Still, she was much smaller than Saker, and as such, his energy began to fall away long before hers. He got clumsy, lobbing bombs at her only to have them fall yards away, barely even though spark to burn a tiny hole into her skirts. As he began to slow down, Sabrina found herself making up for this sudden lack of whatever small bit of agility he possessed. Rolling away from another blow, she turned and shot.

His knee jerked downwards, his entire body shuddering as the bullet tore through his calf. She hurried backwards as she fumbled to put more bullets into her pistol, nearly tripping over the body of a merc in the process.

The second bullet buried deep into the thigh of his opposite leg, and he dropped down onto his knees.

Before he could say a word, Sabrina was already rearing up, another spell conjured up on her gauntlet. "Stop!" he shouted, his scarred face skewed as he stared up at her. "_Stop_." His chest heaved with every labored breath, and a light of relief crossed his features when he saw the spell disappear before it'd come to full power. "This battle is yours, much as I hate to say it."

Grinding his teeth together, he stared up at her, the brow above his blind eye knitting downward. "Kill me or let me live. It's your choice. Either way, my men will honor it."

"You're nothing but _mercenaries_. Given the right price, who's to say that you won't keep attacking the Dwellers regardless." She worked her jaw. She could feel Walter staring down at her, waiting for her decision. He didn't want to interrupt her. He wanted to see what she would do. "My mother spent years wiping you out, and you spring up again before her body's even cold."

"Yeah, we're nothing but mercenaries," Saker said, a harsh cough racking through him. His hand passed down his thigh, lingering over the muscle that continued seeping blood into his trousers. "But we have our codes, like any other soldiers."

It made sense, but this was the man who'd just been trying to kill her mere moments before. He was a mercenary, a hired gun, a trained killer. He was the leader of a group of men who'd been helping to wipe out the Dwellers for years. Sabine wanted him and his men dead, and she had to give Sabine what he wanted. If she didn't, he might very well not follow her.

"And what of the Dwellers?"

Saker stared up at her. The corners of his wide mouth turned downwards, as if he could already feel his grip on the situation slipping. She was going to kill him; he could hear the certainty in her voice. "We'll leave them be, no matter what you choose," he said, head lowering. "And that's a warrior's _promise_."

"You're _not_ a warrior," Sabrina cut in, bridging the gap between them. "You're a criminal. You don't deserve to call yourself a warrior. My _mother_ was a warrior."

"Then stop dancing around your answer and kill me already, will you?"

Her shaking hand grabbed her pistol out of its holster. She lowered it until the cool metal was pressed against the strip of dark hair that banded over his head. Taking a deep breath, her thumb reached up to pull at the hammer. Saker couldn't help but feel his heart almost stop when he heard the distinct _click_ of it hitting against the bullet that would be the death of him.

"Sabrina!" Her eyes flicked up to Walter, though her aim didn't waver. "Think about this. Do you really want to kill him? He could be a potential ally."

"I don't want this poisonous man anywhere near our revolution," she replied, though her voice was too quiet for him to hear. Her words shook leaving her mouth, fumbling and very nearly failing altogether. "Do we want someone who's done the things he's done to help us? Do we want what he had to offer?"

Saker took a shaky breath. Tilting his head up, he looked directly into her face, his lips curled into a sneer. "You're killing just for killing now. You're no better than –"

The shot rang outwards, echoing up into the stands, and Walter shook his head. "We should get back to Brightwall," he called down to her, his eyes focused on the blood-stained boards at his feet. He didn't want to see what remained of Saker. Her actions had taken him unaware, and he didn't know what to make of them. He didn't even know if he wanted to make anything of them at all. "Tell them the good bloody news."

Sabrina holstered her pistol, and she began walking towards the gate.


	10. Chapter VIII : Worries

"Annnnd that's all I have time for today, princess."

Rocking up onto his feet, Ben turned and grinned at her. She'd been sitting there for nearly an hour and a half, completely silent save the little gasp she uttered when he got to the point where her mother shot Saker right between the eyes. That in itself was enough for him to question if the girl at his side was even the same one from the night before. Valerie very rarely sat still, and her silence was even more of an oddity.

"_Another_ cliffhanger, Ben?" she asked, looking up at him with the single most unamused expression he'd ever seen. Which was surprising, considering how intimately he knew Page. "Can't you just get to a logical stopping point?"

Ben lifted his index into the air. The smile on his mouth only widened. Oh, but he knew very well how to deal with women in this situation. "Ah, but that wasn't a cliffhanger. A true cliffhanger would've been stopping just before she chose to kill or spare Saker. Now you don't have to sit and fret about that for a few days until I can get back to the castle and continue on."

Val popped up at that. "A few days? What do you mean a few days!"

"Exactly what I said, princess," he replied, pulling at his coat until his epaulets were poised perfectly on his shoulders. "I have important General business to be done in on the coast."

"Kalin's arriving from Aurora for her yearly visit," Val said, crossing her arms. Her poker face was almost as impressive as the one belonging to his darling dear. How a girl of seventeen could match her, he'd never know. Not that he'd ever tell her; no matter how lucrative his position, no amount of coin could make a couch more comfortable than a bed. "I'd hardly call that _important General business_."

Ben pursed his lips. What exactly did one say to something like that? 'Oh, you're right, of course. I'm hurrying down to the coast to personally deliver one of the Queen's friends to her doorstep because I'm about to go bloody insane from seeing nothing but Bowerstone for months on end' didn't seem like the most diplomatic of answers. "And just what would you consider it then? I'm the General. This is my business. I consider it important. Therefore it's important General business, ain't it?"

"In the loosest sense of the word," she muttered, sitting back down with a huff and a puff of her skirts. "Next thing you'll tell me is that my mother considers bringing a letter from Bowerstone to Brightwall a quest of some importance for the crown."

"Well..."

Val scoffed, her eyes rolling upwards as she crossed her arms again. She paused, though, the moment thoughts began to turn in her head. Rolling her neck back in his direction, she gave him a little smile. "If that's true, I believe you should expound upon it. For the sake of making good on your word. I am _truly_ curious."

"You're a snake is what you are," Ben laughed. "Stop trying to get stories out of me. We will continue this at a leisurely pace or we won't continue it at all. What I'm doing is _important_, whether if you see the importance of it or not."

"Oh, come on!" Val whined. "Tell me more! I want to know what Sir Walter thought of what happened to Saker. I want to know why my mother killed him. I want to know what happened! I want –"

Ben stopped her. "And I want a golden gilded pony who passes pearls after every meal, but it's not going to happen."

"Beeeeen –"

"Oi! None of that. You're a princess, remember? Didn't your mother ever teach you how to act like one?" A thick blonde brow boosted high on his forehead. His amusement wove deep into his words, and she wanted to huff enough louder because of it. He was _mocking_ her. "When I first met your mother, she was nothing but polite. Quiet, too..." He trailed off, noting the slightly brighter look on her face. "No! You won't get any more out of me. I have to go and speak to Sabrina. Don't you have lessons to attend anyway?"

Val looked utterly crestfallen at the mention of her studies. "Hobson's supposed to be teaching me about the _economy_ today. Teach me how to count the sodding gold and nothing more. Except for maybe how to steal it off people who need it."

Reaching out, Ben gave her shoulder a conciliatory pat. "I'm sure Page is around here somewhere," he said softly, his previous smirk turning into a warm curve of a smile. "She's been wanting to help you with your aim. You've been focusing too much on your swordplay anyway. Using a pistol's just as important, yanno."

"Hobson claims I get gunpowder all over my clothes when I go to the range," she said, her hands stroking over the white fabric of her skirts. "He said swordplay is more graceful and befitting of a princess if she _must_ learn to fight."

"Your brothers don't seem to have any trouble finding time to do both."

The princess' jaw twitched. "Yes, well, my brothers can get up and leave when it's their turn for their other studies." When she next spoke, it was in a slightly deeper, grumbling tone, clearly not befitting either of her brothers, but meant to poke fun at them. "_What good'll etiquette do me? I'm a big boy. I don't need that toss to find me a lady._" Clearing her throat, she laced her fingers together in her lap. "The only worthwhile ladies in court would rather have me shoot them in the foot due to poor aim than marry either of them. Being next in line for the throne is the only thing going for Sam."

"Your gossiping is keeping me from talking to your mother, Val," Ben said plainly, "If I lose my head just because I lingered to listen to your rather poor impression of your brothers, I'll be very upset."

"Fine, fine," she waved a hand at him. "I'll just ask _Page_ to finish up for you."

Ben had been halfway turned in the direction of the path leading up to the castle when he stopped cold. Turning on his heel, he looked at her, an expression torn between surprise and offense crossing his features. "And why would you do that, huh?"

Lifting a hand, Valerie began admiring her nails. Hook, line, and sinker – if anyone even began to think that Valerie made a horrible princess due to her not being of Queen Sabrina's blood, they'd be dead wrong. All it took was living in the castle to learn the ins and outs of nobility; blood didn't have anything to do with it. "Page is concise. She'd tell me all the important parts and let me fill in all the blanks."

"Well that's because she's a rubbish storyteller." He paled a little, taking a quick step forward. "Don't tell her I said that."

"I won't tell her if you continue the story," Val said with a grin.

Ben's brows knitted inwards. "You're doing this on purpose. You know what Page'll do to me if she finds out I said something like that. She prides herself on her stories, but they're all bloody terrible. It's like listening to a dying cat." His blue eyes went wide for a moment before he gave himself a hearty smack to the forehead. "I can't believe I just said that."

He could hear Valerie's quiet giggling, and he looked at her over his hand, eyes narrowed. "You're _enjoying_ this, aren't you?" When she nodded, he let his hand fall to his side. "You know what? Fine. If I'm going to be blackmailed, I might as well go along with it. But I have to go tell your mum that I'll be somewhat late. And by somewhat, I mean _very_."

"Sounds like an excellent plan to me," Val said with an even bigger smile, like a cat who'd swallowed an entire roost of canaries. "I think I'll go sit in the library instead. It's getting warm out here, and I forgot my bonnet this morning."

"Of course it sounds like an excellent plan to you," he replied, shoulders bouncing in a shrug. "You're getting exactly what you want." Turning around, he began his trek up the pathway, mumbling to himself. She caught a few words here and there. Spoiled. Princess. _Too damned wily for her own good_. The latter far outshone the two former comments, enough to make her forget about them entirely.

Valerie rose from the bench a moment later, far more gracefully than she had before. Her hands went to the skirt of her dress, shifting it around her legs until everything was smoothed out as they were meant to be. Before she began making her way up to the castle, however, she paused, her eyes moving towards the statue of Sir Walter a few yards away.

For most of her life, she'd known him only as a statue – a tall, imposing memory that truly had no life in her mind. He was a name and a list of deeds and her mother's esteem. Nothing more. Things were different now. It was as if Ben had breathed life into the worn and weathered stone. Only now did she realize that the mouth that had always seemed so set had a hint of a smile in the very corner of it. How could she have never noticed it before? While she'd never taken the time to really look at the statue, she didn't think she was so absent-minded as to completely skip over something like that.

Narrowing her eyes up at the statue – though there was no annoyance in her gaze, only curiosity – she twisted on her feet and hurried up the path towards the castle.

Her steps were short, but swift, and she nearly knocked over someone as she rushed through the back door. Before she could topple over, she felt herself being both caught, lifted, and set right on her feet. Blinking in surprise, she looked towards the fellow she'd bumped into only to find herself staring directly into Daniel's freckled face.

"Uhm... your Highness?" another voice came from her side. This one was higher pitched, nothing like Daniel's warm tones. "I-I'm sorry for bumping into you like that."

Her attention flicked to the man who'd snatched her up from falling. He was head and shoulders shorter than his friend with a thatch of black hair and eyes that could be best described as tiny green beads. Nothing like the honey hues of – "Ah, yes, well, that's fine," she said, stepping back and dusting at her sleeves. When her gaze moved back to Daniel, she refused to take her eyes off him, just as he was having a very, _very_ difficult time looking away from her. "Just watch where you're going next time, hm?"

When the smaller man rushed off, cheeks flaming, Daniel stayed behind. "Hello, your Highness." Biting back a small smile, he bowed at his waist. "You're looking well this morning."

"As are you," she replied, not even bothering to stem her own grin.

"Did you...?" He cleared his throat as politely as he could manage. "Did you get the flowers I picked for you this morning?" The question itself was meaningless; he knew she'd picked the dress she did to tell him that she had. The similarities between the blooms and what she wore couldn't have been coincidence.

Valerie nodded, her hands clasping together in front of her. "They were very beautiful, though... I imagine your father wouldn't be too happy if he knew you'd snipped some of his flowers."

"Maybe not," Daniel said, finally allowing himself a full smile. A dimple carved into his cheek as he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "But I'm sure he wouldn't mind too much when he found out who they were for. He knows you like them."

"He knows I like flowers, but he doesn't know which ones." Rocking onto the balls of her feet, she bit down on her bottom lip, suddenly ten shades of shy. "Only you pay enough attention to know that."

It was Daniel's turn to blush, a bright red blooming across his cheeks as he shifted on his feet. She couldn't help but stare at him, her eyes going wide in adoration unable to be hinged. "I only know that you like them, your Highness; I don't mean anything by it. Nothing untoward or anything."

"Of course," she said, nodding. "I... I'll go now. I'll talk to you some other time?"

The statement sounded more like a question, propelling him forward a step in the direction he'd been going anyway. "I'd like that," he murmured, flashing a little smile at her before hurrying off after his friend, who'd long since disappeared into the connecting hallway.

Val found herself standing in the hallway for a long time after he left. Her hand pressed to the very bottom of her corseted middle, chest rising and falling as she strove to catch whatever breath he'd taken away after he walked past. She shouldn't let anyone effect her like that, especially not someone working in her mother's employ. It wasn't what was expected of her; there were so many other... opportunities. Why did she have to stumble directly into the one she shouldn't have?

As she made her way in the direction of the library, casually nodding to everyone who said good morning, she wondered if her mother had ever felt this way about her feelings for Sir Walter. She had no doubt in her mind that her grandmother had a plan for her daughter, just as her mother no doubt had plans for her. Had she wondered if her feelings were wrong? If she'd be better off with someone her age or her rank, at the very least?

Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, Val pushed into the library to find it completely empty save for the dark, polished furniture and the loads of books. It was certainly something to consider once she let herself collapse onto one of the cushioned seats scattered around the room.

Ben found her there not fifteen minutes later, her head tilted back, eyes focused on both the ceiling and nothing in particular, ankles crossed as she'd been taught long ago. "The Queen said I've got two hours, and then I have to go," he said, crossing the long room to sit onto the chair next to hers. His posture had never improved, shoulders slouching slightly despite the stiffness of his coat. "That should be enough to get us to Mourningwood." He grinned when she turned her attention from her thoughts to what he was saying. "And the infinitely more interesting part of the story, if I say so myself."

"And do you?" she asked, her cheek pressed against the high back of the chair. When he cocked a brow at her, she chuckled. "Do you say so yourself?"

"Huh, I believe I do, yes."

Val laughed then, toeing off her shoes and pulling her feet up onto the couch. "If memory serves, that's where she first met you, Ben," she began, her hands smoothing over the fabric of her skirt. "And the rest of the men stationed at Mourningwood fort. So it's either your ego speaking or your esteem for Major Swift that forms your opinion."

"Cheeky," Ben grinned, shifting a little on the chair to remove his jacket, placing it carefully over the arm. "You know a lot more about this than I thought you did."

"So what's next, hm?" she asked, shuffling a little until she was comfortable. "Do I get to hear about what happened after the mercenary camp, or are you going to skip right towards you making the story a brighter, more handsome, and 'infinitely more interesting' place?"

He couldn't help but continue smiling at her. "I'm not skipping _anything_," he said, leaning against the arm of his chair. "I already told you that I was going to tell a story, and I'm not going to tell just half of it."

"But you've only got two hours!"

"Then you'll get two hours of story," he continued. "And when the two hours are up, you'll have to be patient. And stop making that face at me. It's not impossible to wait. I'll only been gone for a week and a half at the very most."

Val bit down on the inside of her bottom lip. "When you get back, you'll only have a little while until you have to go to Bloodstone."

"Then you'll wait again." Resting his chin on his fist, he smiled. "Patience, Val. S'not that hard."

* * *

Sabrina sat with her legs crossed on the bed Jasper had procured for himself while they were out 'adventuring.' He sat across from her on one of the chairs he'd discovered in one of the rooms branching off from the main Sanctuary, a tray resting on his lap. The cup of tea had long since stopped steaming, but part of her knew that if she grabbed it now, it would still be warm enough to heat her hands.

Running her fingers over the fur of her boots, her shoulders caved inwards. "You did nothing that your mother wouldn't have done, madam," Jasper said. Taking note of the look in her eyes, he lifted two cubes of sugar and let them fall into the creamy liquid. He began to stir as he explained himself. "The mercenaries were making life for the Dwellers very difficult. You did not have any other choice, as far as I'm concerned. He was very dangerous and even more unpredictable."

"But he'd surrendered, Jasper." She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "He told me that he'd leave the Dwellers alone. And I still killed him. In _cold blood_."

"I hardly think that is the case," he continued, lifting the spoon with a quiet clink against the porcelain. "There was no way for you to know that he would keep his word. He was a mercenary and a brute, your Highness. He might have turned right around and killed you. You had no way of knowing that he was being genuine." Grasping the cup with one hand and the tray with his other, he offered it to her.

She took it after a moment's consideration. "You say that it's what my mother would've done?"

Jasper nodded. "I believe so."

"From what I've heard of her early adventuring, becoming exactly like her is... not something I aspire to." Her brows twitched inward as she brought her tea up to her lips. It was still warm, and the lingering heat seeped into her palms. Swallowing a large portion of it, she looked to him again. "My mother was ruthless. I... I've heard the stories. She told me most of them herself. She said that there was a time when she realized how horrible she was and had to force herself to not be that person."

If there was any one person left in Albion who readily remembered Lionheart before she'd taken on the name, when she was still Sparrow, it was him. He remembered her husband Alex's mysterious disappearance. He remembered the obscenely high taxes, the disgust their future Queen once inspired from merely passing by them in the street. He'd spent most of his young life helping his parents in tending to an empty castle. Lord Fairfax hadn't lived there for many years, and even after his murder, before Lionheart purchased it for her homestead, they'd kept it in the very best of shape. Still, when his mother heard that the Hero was going to be moving in within the end of the year, he didn't hear of her grand accomplishments. He heard stories of her cruelty. It took many, many years of kindness for Lionheart to prove to her people that she had their well-being at heart.

He didn't want that to happen to Sabrina, but there were things she must do in order to keep herself safe and the revolution on-going that might not be the most helpful to her image. "Your mother did what she had to do," Jasper said, "She told me once that she changed many, many times in her life. She began living on the streets of Bowerstone to living in a gypsy encampment, from accepting her sister's death to feeling vengeful, from taxing the people mercilessly in order to do what she must to giving money to the destitute. She was an incredible woman, but she – as is everyone – was flawed in various different ways. You cannot simply choose not to be flawed, Sabrina, but you can enhance your greater qualities, which is what you are doing now."

Sabrina's chin quavered. "Am I?" She rested the tea cup down onto her lap, her arms pressing into the warm fabric of the now-tattered Dweller skirt. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course," he replied with a small smile. "The princess who left the castle could not have made a scary face at those mercenaries, much less send them to their maker. I am very proud of you." Pausing for a moment, he nodded. "As is Walter, I'm sure."

"You didn't have to travel with him from the mercenary camp back to the Dwellers," she huffed. Taking another long sip of her tea, she shook her head. "He is definitely _not _proud of me."

The walk had been a very quiet one. Instead of using the cullis gate, they'd gone back by foot, the distance far less intimidating this time. She wasn't used to not talking to Walter. She was accustomed to asking him questions, asking for his help to do small things like start a fire or put up her tent. They'd only spent two nights on their trip back to the Dweller camp, and he'd put their tents up without her asking while she was washing up. He wasn't intimidating; she knew him far too well to be intimidated by him. But his discomfort with the situation was enough to keep her lips firmly sealed.

Jasper rested his hand on her wrist, clutching it. "You took him by surprise, Sabrina. He was only trying to understand your motivation, no doubt, and how you conjured up the gall to do such a thing. Necessary though it was, it was still something that he would not have expected of you, I am certain."

When she didn't reply, he reached up, tilting her chin so he could look her in the eye. She looked directly at him for a long moment before looking to her cup, though her chin was still tilted back. "Did you explain yourself to him?"

"I can't talk to him," she said, moving her face away from his hand and shaking her head again. "I don't know what to say. This _never_ happens with Walter. I always know what to say when he's around. And he's _never _quiet. Not with anyone, but especially not with me. He's always talking about something, telling me some story or whatnot. That's just how he _is_, but it's not like that anymore."

He could hear her voice grow watery, see the lowering of her lids and the subsequent filling of her eyes. "You have to talk to him, madam. If you don't explain yourself, he will never understand, will he? And if he never understands, this silence will only grow between you." His hand fell to his lap, setting gently on the empty platter there. "That is the very last thing I want, for your sake. While I do a very good job of ignoring what's very plainly exhibited before me, I do now how you..." He cleared his throat. "I do know how you feel about him."

When her head snapped up to look at him, the tears broke free, rolling down her cheeks only to be swiped away by the eager hand of a suddenly very flustered young woman. "What do you mean? How do you – how do you know?"

"Your Highness," Jasper replied quickly, subtle amusement threaded through his words, "you're hardly covert about it."

"Do – do you think he knows?" she asked in a hurried whisper.

She watched him as he attempted to formulate a diplomatic response. It took quite a long time, and every second that ticked past had her heart beating faster. "If he does, he does a very good job of hiding it, but..."

Sabrina shifted forward, pulled by the word 'but.'

"But I do think it is a possibility."

"Think _what_ is a possibility!"

Jasper's hand flew out to rest comfortingly on her shoulder. "Do not get ahead of yourself, madam," he said, all humor gone from his voice. "I meant that it is a possibility that he is aware of your feelings, not that your... ahem, _union_ has any potential whatsoever."

He immediately figured his attempt at tact was a failure when he saw her chin quaver. "No... No, I get it. He wouldn't want anything to do with me anyway." She shrugged off Jasper's hand, pulling her legs up to hug them to her chest, chin resting on her knee. He truly hadn't meant for her to take it this way. She'd always known that it wasn't possible for them to be together, hadn't she? "Especially not now. Thank you, though. For your honesty."

"Sabrina, I didn't..."

"It's okay, Jasper," she murmured. "It's all silly anyway. I don't have time for this, do I? Revolution and all that. And if I'm going to be Queen, I can't have my intentions set on someone old enough to be my father." Before he could protest, she'd begun to stand. She'd been set to travel to Brightwall to meet with Samuel and Walter at the tavern for hours; neither of the men would be very bothered by her tardiness. As she left the room and made her way towards the central chamber, he could hear her murmuring to herself. "Bloody _nobility_ and their _ideals_. I shouldn't give a toss what they think. They're all idiots anyhow. What do they know about romance besides what they read in stories?"

* * *

The moment she stepped into Ye Quill and Quandary, she could hear Walter's voice. Of course he was on the second floor. Why would anyone want to save themselves the trouble and take one of the tables on the bottom? Sighing, she looked up towards the railing to see that his chair was pressed up against it, one arm resting on the roughly hewn barrier between him and making a very squishy mess on the floor. Not only was he leaning rather precariously, but he was nearly shouting at volumes she wasn't really used to hearing from him.

"And then she killed him!" Sabrina crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing up at his back. "With Will! Just like her mum!"

"Oh, that is quite remarkable, Sir Walter!"

What in all that was holy and good were they _doing_? Wasn't the fact that they were staging a revolution supposed to be discreet in order to keep their heads firmly attached to their necks as well as keeping the villagers safe? This all seemed rather stupid, especially for something Sir Walter was doing. It took a lion's share of ale to get him drunk. She hadn't been _that_ late.

Not until she heard the barkeep muttering something to one of the serving ladies did she understand exactly what was going on.

"She looks like the late Queen, she does," the man whispered to the woman at his side, hands wringing in the apron at his waist. "D'you suppose that's her? She's wearin' a sword. And a pistol. I think that might very well be the princess they're talkin' about up there."

The barmaid shook her head, placing two large mugs of ale onto a tray. "She looks a mite small, she does. Dunno if a girl so tiny could take Saker. I've seen 'im before."

"Yeah, but that old soldier up there claims she took 'im down with Will." Leaning on the bar, his hand went to his mouth in an attempt to shield his words from getting to Sabrina's ears, though it did little to help. "S'not likely, but ya don't need to be big to set somebody on fire."

Sabrina managed to give them a wide, toothy smile before scurrying out of the tavern to head up the stairs that hugged the side of the building. Those people were _talking _about her. This was becoming a more common happening, as well. She'd heard people whispering in the Dweller camp about things like faith and the belief that she'd be able to amass an army enough to bring down her brother. In Brightwall, she'd become a popular face. They knew she was here to help, and while the tasks were menial to say the least, she'd lent a hand to many of the townspeople.

When she mounted the final stair and hurried into the room, she saw Walter brighten noticeably. His already ruddy cheeks were flushed from whatever ale he'd consumed, and even Samuel looked pleasantly drunk. "Ah! Here she is!" the former said, lifting his pint into the air with a smile. "We were _just_ talking about you."

"Yeah, I... heard," she replied with a small smile.

"Indeed," Samuel grinned to himself, lifting his mug with both hands to take a long drink from it. "We were just making a toast to your stupendous feat of ridding Mistpeak of Saker and his men!" The scholar set the pewter mug down onto the table with a flourish and a bit of frothy liquid spilling over the side. "They have been a source of _great_ distress for some time."

Walter shifted on his seat, leaning heavily against the table. "Samuel here's given me some food for thought."

"Very nutritious, mind," the man giggled, making a disgusted face and smacking his lips. "Nothing like those horrendous meat pies he's been serving you, your Highness."

Her mentor pointed a thick index at him, mouth opening as if a threat was poised on the tip of his tongue. It went nowhere, ending when Walter's mouth snapped shut and he shook his head. "Look, we don't have much to work with here, okay? She works all of it off anyway. You should _see_ her with that sword!" Flapping his hand a little, he turned back to the matter at hand. "But as I was going to say, he's given me some food for thought, and I've decided that you did the right thing with Saker."

For a long moment, all of them stared into silence. Walter stared at Sabrina, and she stared back at him. All the while, Samuel's eyes shifted from one to the other. He was close to making a comment about Sabrina being able to catch flies if she kept her mouth open for much longer when she snapped it shut. "_What_?"

"Did you see the faces on the Dwellers when you told them you'd _killed_ Saker? It was like they'd just been visited by Avo himself! You didn't just smack the bastard on the wrist for all the wrong he'd done. You bloody ended him." Shaking his head, he took a long sip from his mug before setting it back down with a _clunk_. "I've only been so quiet because I didn't know what to say. I knew we'd lost an ally, which could've been important, but does _anybody_ want help from someone like that?"

"But I thought you were upset. I thought you were disappointed –"

Walter held up a hand to make her pause, effectively cutting off her speech. "Oh, I was. I _was_ disappointed. Surprised. Upset. Whatever word you can think of. But that was a knee-jerk reaction. I... well, I felt bad that I wasn't down there to help you, you know? That you had to kill him."

Walking over to the table, Sabrina pulled out a chair and sat down, her expression oddly passive. "So you mean to say we traveled for two days in almost complete silence to get to the Dwellers. Told Sabine about Saker. You went off to Brightwall. I tended to finding more followers. And the whole time I was doing this, worried you didn't like my decision, you were chewing over the fact that you think it might've been _the right thing to do_? And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't assume you were so torn up about it," Walter replied, shifting a little closer to her seat and pulling his with him. "Sabine was pleased. The Dwellers might find some peace now. That's what matters, isn't it?"

She couldn't believe it. All the worry that'd been curdling in her stomach for the past few _days_ had been for nothing. And she'd still gotten the wake-up call of Jasper's opinion when it came to her feelings. She'd gone through that and gotten that wrenching news, and for what? To have Walter _agree _with her? Couldn't things just go wrong for once and _stay wrong_?

Sighing, she lifted her hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "Yes," she murmured, "Yes, of course that's what matters."

"I've been speaking to Samuel," he began again, "And he believes that he may be able to help the Dwellers."

"Oh, yes," the scholar interrupted them both. "We have become increasingly aware of the plight the Dwellers have been through due to both Saker's mercenaries and our grievous ignorance towards their condition. But – _but_ – as I was just explaining to Walter, Brightwall has no overabundance of resources as it is."

Walter chimed in just as Sabrina's heart began to sink. "With all the help you've spread around Brightwall, the people are becoming more... charitable than before."

Samuel nodded swiftly, the thinning layer of hair brushed over the top of his shiny head flopping forward. "Both charitable and grateful." He continued nodding, his attention slipping from Sabrina to his mug as he took another sip. "I am sure they will find it in their hearts to send aid to those poor people."

"You've gained quite a following here in Brightwall," Walter said with a wide smile. Reaching forward, he gave the hand she set on the table a pat. The pat turned into his resting it on top, too bothered with draining the rest of his ale to move it. Her blue gaze flicked to Samuel to see a single, bushy brow slide upwards on his forehead. But he didn't look offended or even taken aback. No, when he looked across the table to Walter, he looked _impressed_.

Walter rubbed at his mouth with a swipe of his forearm. "Samuel's going to be putting together boxes of food we're to help bring to the Dwellers. The caravan should be ready by tomorrow afternoon, so you should get some sleep."

Slipping her hand from beneath his, Sabrina gave Samuel a toothy grin. "Thank you," she said, unable to keep herself from gushing in the slightest. "I'm so glad the people of Brightwall are willing to share what little they have with the Dwellers. I can't say I was expecting such charity, though I suppose such an assumption might seem a little offensive. I didn't mean it like that. I only meant that I –"

"I understand, your Highness," Samuel replied, smiling without bearing teeth. His flushed cheeks rose up so high on his face his eyes very nearly disappeared. "If I recall correctly, Sir Walter has rented the room just across there for tonight."

They both watched as the princess stood. She'd changed into the outfit she'd escaped from the castle in, all except for the large, fuzzy boots she'd gotten from the Dwellers. They didn't make a sound as she moved over to stand beside Walter. "Will you two be okay out here?" she asked with a bit of a nudge on his shoulder. "Any more ale and Samuel might not be able to get things ready tomorrow."

Walter tilted his head a little to look up at her, a lopsided smile tilting at his lips. "Aye, we'll be alright," he said, his hand still curled around the handle of his pint. "Don't you worry. I'll carry him home if he has too much."

"Alright, then," Sabrina laughed, biting down on her bottom lip as she looked towards Samuel. "Thank you again! I can't tell you that enough. The Dwellers will be so happy." The man nodded, and she rocked on her feet. "Goodnight!" Turning a little, she looked down at Walter, hesitating for a moment before leaning down and giving him a kiss just over his brow. She popped back up not a moment later and began hurrying away. "Goodnight, Walter!"

The door nearly slammed shut behind her, and the men sat in companionable silence for a long while. Glancing away from the door and to Samuel, Walter saw him staring at him. The line of sight remained unbroken until his eye snapped closed in a wink.

"... What?"

Letting out a low whistle, Samuel tilted back in his chair. "Oh, nothing, Sir Walter. Nothing at all."

"Why the bloody hell does everyone keep saying that?"

* * *

**A/N:** Really sorry for the delay, everyone! The Thanksgiving holidays were a real mess when it came to writing; I just couldn't find the time. And then I started getting worried about not finishing NaNoWriMo after staying on top of the word count for _so long_. That said, I really hope it was worth the wait! Things are progressing... rather slowly. Definitely more slowly than I'd like. But I really don't want to miss out on anything really juicy plot-wise or anything that could be potentially great to spring off of. Plus, getting to Aurora scares me. _It scares me_. Ahem.

That said, thank you for your reviews, as always. They mean so much to me!


	11. Chapter IX : Desperate Measures

"Meet Walter at the Mistpeak monorail station," Sabrina murmured to herself. Despite the fact that her words didn't shake leaving her lips, she had to swallow down the fear rising in her stomach as she and Hammer made their way through the winding, heavily wooded trail leading to their destination. "Not so bad, is it, girl? Of course not. Nothing to be afraid of. It's just..."

The sharp sound of a twig breaking underfoot startled her out of her thoughts, and she thrust her hand forward, a tiny fireball flinging from her palm. Hammer ran out in front of her, kicking dirt onto the patch of grass she'd so gracefully set aflame.

"It's just... dark. And creepy." Shaking her head, Sabrina ran her hands over her arms in an attempt to warm them. Ever since sundown, she'd been regretting that extra hour spent in the Sanctuary, torn between her pistol and rifle. Jasper had offered the hammer if she wanted change, but it didn't take long for them to come to the conclusion that she wasn't exactly fit enough to lift it.

The Hero and her pet walked in quiet for another long moment. Why had she waited so long? There was just something unsettling about these woods. Even with the moon high in the sky, reflecting light over the nearby lake, she still felt almost closed in by the trees that lined the path. Not only that, but she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "And I feel like I'm being _watched_."

"That's 'cause you _are_, princess."

Twirling around, she found herself standing not a foot away from a man clad head to toe in black. He pulled down the fabric held up over his nose and mouth, revealing a sinister grin. "Been following you for miles, we have. A little one like you ought not travel alone."

Sabrina took a step back, her eyes wide. "... We?" When the mercenary flicked a hand behind her, she turned around to see four similarly dressed men make their way out into the path. Her heart shuddered in her chest. Could she do this? The last time she'd fought so many, Walter had been with her. He'd killed half of them. "Look, you've... you've got the wrong person! I'm no princess. I'm just on my way to the monorail station."

"Oh, yeah, you're right," the man behind her said, pulling at his scarf until it hung loosely around his neck. "You're not a princess. A _princess_ wouldn't kill a man who'd surrendered."

A whimper died in her throat. "This is about that, isn't it?"

"This is _about_," the man stepped forward, drawing himself to full height, "you giving us a ripe opportunity to get rid of a damned nuisance." He was head and shoulders taller than her, staring down into her face with an icy blue-gray glare that was only broken by a few, stringy black strands of hair over one of his eyes. Even when she'd been so close to Saker, she hadn't been faced by such a potent, dangerous figure. Maybe it was her heightened sense of fear from her surroundings, the absence of Walter, or the fact that she hadn't even so much as drawn her sword in days.

"Oi, Gus, better watch out," one shouted from behind her, "She's a witch, she is. She'll fry us all if you're not careful."

The mercenary – Gus – leaned down a little, gripping her by her collar and hauling her up to the tips of her toes. "I don't think we've anything to worry about, gents. Looks like the princess is bloody useless without that old dolt following her around, doin' all the killing for her."

Sabrina struggled in his grasp, clawing at his gloved hand with her own. "Let me _go_," she gurgled. The tautness of her collar was making it difficult for her to breathe when paired with her steadily rising panic.

"You're not exactly in a very good position to be giving orders, your Highness."

His sneered condescension was too much. The hands that had been previously trying to free herself settled on his gloves. "I'm sorry," she told him, and he realized quickly that she was genuine. "I... I didn't want to k-kill him. I had to." The sharp bite of confusion bled into pain and panic the moment he felt the heat.

Gus let out a shriek when he felt the leather of his gloves being burned through. It was his turn to struggle; he let go of Sabrina's collar only to find that she was holding his hands together with a surprising strength. The pain was unbelievable, sending his sight blurry and white as he jerked away from her, only to pull her a few steps forward.

"Let me go!" he screamed into her face, his heels digging into the dirt as he tried and failed to get away from her again. "Kill her, you idiots!"

When she let go of him, Gus stumbled backwards, falling with a puff of dust to the ground. Before he even hit the dirt, Sabrina was turning around, a preemptive ball of flame thrust into the path of one of the men. He stopped in his tracks, blade held high, and stared at her. He'd known she would rely on her Will in a fight, but he hadn't been expecting fire. The stories they'd all heard of old Will users were mixed at best. This mercenary in particular had been raised by stories of a Hero called Ash, who manipulated time in order to put his blade into his nearest foe before the man could hardly blink. He'd _heard_ about Will users using fire, but she'd taken him by surprise.

Behind him, she saw a man heft up his rifle and aim. She paused for just long enough; the man's eye was aimed on her so completely that when she rolled to the left, he followed her, pulling the trigger before he had time enough to realize who he was really aiming at. The startled mercenary fell to his knees with a howl, his sword falling as his hands flew to his knee. Even in the dark, she could see blood gushing from the wound, black against his pale hands.

As the first merc flew into bouts of curses and screams, Sabrina clambered to her feet and drew her pistol. The man with the blown out knee attracted the attention of the others, if only for a moment, but it was enough time for her to unload two rounds in the direction of the nearest mercenary. The first missed, but then she heard the tell-tale sound of the second bullet impacting flesh.

He staggered forward a step, groaning as he fought the urge to tend to the wound in his shoulder. His now-clumsy hands worked his rifle, cocking it back and pulling it up to take aim of his own.

Her eyes shot upwards, assessing the situation as quickly as her panicked, racing mind could manage. Before he could press the trigger, a flame engulfed her gauntlet and she thrust her palm forward. An overhanging branch crackled and popped as the dry wood and leaves caught on fire. The merc looked upwards just in time to see the thick branch collapsing on top of him.

Whatever small victory this might have been dissolved into the opposite when she heard yet another gunshot ring out. The man who'd shot one of his own had been given enough time to reload, and she hadn't seen the shot coming.

Sabrina's legs buckled beneath her. A white heat spread upwards from her thigh, sending sparks into her eyesight, illuminating the darkened path in the very worst way. She hit the ground on her knees, hands desperately moving to her sword to unsheathe the blade before she fell on top of it. Three of the men had been incapacitated, leaving two more. One was ranged – the bastard who'd shot her – while the other...

Even through the pained tears that clouded her vision, Sabrina could see him approach, a curved blade poised to do her in. His strides were cut short, however, when she lifted her left hand to shield the blow. The newer gauntlet began glowing pale blue, and a sharp crack filled the air when she let go of the sudden spell, tendrils of lightning flashing out from her palm, grasping with their slender fingers for the nearest metallic object.

The mercenary shrieked and dropped his sword. Behind her, she could hear Gus foraging around in the heaps of fallen leaves for his weapon. The burns on his hands kept him from holding onto the hilt of it, but if he could swallow back the pain for long enough, he could kill her himself. "Somebody _shoot her_! Gods! She's just _bloody lying there_!"

Her hands went to her belt, quickly flipping open the little pack Jasper had sewn onto it. Wiping at her eyes with her sleeve in a desperate attempt to see better, she grabbed for a red bottle that clinked against the others. She pulled out the cork and tilted it back, pouring the thick liquid into her mouth. Her stomach clenched, denying the potion at first, but she bit back the reflex and kept it down.

Tossing the bottle aside, Sabrina shut her eyes. She could hear the man with the rifle loading it for another shot. Even over the sound of that, she heard Gus shouting orders. She heard the other men groaning and yelling and screaming for help. And she could hear her heart pounding in her ears, could hear it speeding up with the aid of the potion. From what Jasper had told her, Heroes were already given the gift of quick healing, but even they needed help sometimes, like here. She could feel her blood pumping through her veins, pushed with a speed unlike anything she'd felt before. While this meant she lost more blood, she also felt the bullet being thrust outwards, pushed from where it was buried into the muscle. She sensed the wound begin to heal itself. She clotted faster, felt the muscles begin to band together. The pain remained, though she knew this was more internal than anything, but the wound itself looked as if it had never existed.

He was close to finished with his bullet – a bullet that would no doubt be aimed directly for her head, as she hadn't so much as touched this one. It was all a matter of who could do the most damage the quickest. She looked up at him to see him focused as could be on his gun, so focused that he only looked up when the path grew somewhat brighter.

If he didn't know any better, he'd have assumed the young woman he set sights on wasn't Albion's darling princess, but one of them. She looked sinister, almost feral, in the way the bright orange and blue lights that burned over her gauntlets cast shadows over her features. Her hair, the ragged ends of which were stuck through with broken, crumpled leaves, hung down to her shoulders, not concealing in the slightest the look of utter terror and determination that mixed on her face.

The mercenary hefted his rifle upwards, but he didn't have enough time. While she'd given him enough time to plug her good once, he wouldn't get the chance again. That thought rang so clearly in his mind that he didn't even bother pulling the trigger. He merely stood there, staring, as she lurched forward, both hands thrust outward in his direction.

She could hear Gus gasp just behind her as he watched the princess' ball of fire and lightning throw his man off of his feet, every inch of cloth and leather and skin engulfed in the electrifying flames. With a rush of adrenaline, he forgot about his hands, about the burns that were now filled with dirt and bits of leaves, and he grabbed his sword.

Before he could thrust it forward, Sabrina lifted her good leg up and slammed it downward onto the ground. The hilt was torn from his hand, reminding him instantly of the wounds she'd given him, and he drew both palms inwards.

"You _idiot_," Sabrina coughed, kicking the sword away from him. He glared up at her, the heat in his eyes not dissipating in the slightest when he saw that she was crying. "_Why_ do you want to kill me?"

"You had Saker's word, you little twit," he growled, "He could have helped you." The air of defiance in this man was almost palpable. Even though he was wounded enough to be useless in a fight, his ego refused to let him back down. Instead, he stared up at her, as brazen as he had been when the upper hand was his.

She took a step forward, her stride hitching when she put pressure on the previously wounded leg. "What? Like I could've helped you?"

"Don't play me for a fool, princess." Drawing himself up until he was only on one knee, he looked at her. "There were men who saw what you did to Saker. Said you didn't give him a chance 'cause he was a mercenary. If you wouldn't let him help ya, why would we be any different?"

"Because I'm not bloody _heartless_, that's why!" Sabrina hiccuped, taking a deep breath in an attempt to soothe whatever building frustration burned at her throat. "Saker was your leader. You didn't have a _choice_."

Gus shook his head, pressing his elbow into his thigh to boost himself up onto his feet. "A lot of us were mercenaries by trade," he said. His stare still held remnants of his previous animosity towards her, though he did consider her much less of a threat now, all pale and tear-streaked as she was. "A lot of us did have a choice, so I don't know what you're going for, _your Highness_, but you better try a lot harder."

Sabrina's chin tilted upwards, staring up at him as best she could. "You keep saying _a lot_. Like you know someone who _didn't_ have a choice. I'm going to assume you're talking about yourself." Gus opened his mouth to say something, but she continued speaking. He found himself unable to interrupt her, which was almost infuriating in itself. "And, assuming that and the fact that you haven't even _looked_ at your pistols yet, you're going to hear me out."

"Fine," he huffed. He cradled his hands close to his body, shoulders hunched inwards to look into her eyes as best he could. He knew how to read people better than anybody he knew. If she was going to play him, he'd know, and he'd end her as quickly as he could manage.

"I need help," she said plainly. He was impressed; she hadn't batted an eyelash, whereas most folks would've sooner shot themselves in the foot than admit that they didn't have the means to do what they wanted. "This is bigger than me. Bigger than my prejudices." She passed her tongue over her bottom lip in thought, her eyes falling away from his for a moment, though they returned just as quickly. "I couldn't trust Saker, and I can't trust you. Not implicitly. But I can offer the chance for good jobs once I am Queen, for good, legal jobs, for you and all your men."

Gus rolled his eyes skyward. The catch – there was always a catch. "We're not gonna work in your factories, sweetheart. Manual labor isn't our _thing_."

"I don't want to kill you all," she pleaded with him. The hitch in her words and the wide-eyed, almost innocent look she took on proved that she actually believed what she said. When she next spoke, her voice was slightly deeper, more solid. "But if you're not on my side, I will."

"So what are you asking? Do you want me to turn all of these rotten bastards into civilized citizens? I'm good at a lot of things, but schooling them on how to be proper ain't one of them."

Sabrina shook her head. "That's not what I want. I only want you to call them off. I don't care what you do, as long as you keep your swords sheathed and your guns holstered in the meantime. I'll need you all when the revolution starts." She sighed, looking up at him again, her brows pinched inwards. "And even more so, I want you to save their lives." Her words came out in a rush as she stepped forward. "I think I made it fairly obvious that I _can_ kill you. I'm not some easy mark."

"Well, yeah, that much was pretty damned obvious, I'd say." Rolling his shoulders back, he tilted his head from side to side. "I wasn't born into this line of work, so a lot of 'em listen to what I have to say, even if they don't like it much."

"Help them," she said, her voice gone soft. "If you do, there will... be a reward."

Even though he hated himself for it, Gus' eyes lit up at that. "You should've said that sooner, your Highness." His hands were still pulled up close to his body when he bowed. It was a clumsy gesture, and it was obvious he'd never actually had to bow to anyone in his entire life. "When you need me, there's a... pretty good chance I'll be there."

"I know you're not doing this because you want to," she told him as he bent down to grab for his sword. He winced at the sensation of the scored leather that wrapped around the hilt brushed over the heel of his palm. Taking a step forward, she grabbed at the sliver of hilt he wasn't holding onto, helping him return it to its sheath. "I know you're doing it to save your neck and for whatever reward I might give you, but... you're doing the right thing."

She watched as the merc's forehead wrinkled, brows furrowing. "Oi, don't say that," he muttered, a hint of a forced smile curving at the corner of his mouth. "You might make me change my mind."

Before Gus turned away, leaving the bodies of his men littering the path, Sabrina reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him around to look at her. "If you so much as step out of line, I'll consider this... agreement of ours broken." She paused, and Gus felt his breath catch in his throat. "You'll regret it." She let go of him then, allowing him to turn and make his way up the path.

Part of her believed that this would work, that keeping an eye on whatever small clusters of mercenaries cropped up in Albion after Saker's death would keep them in check. And yet another, quieter part of her believed otherwise. She knew that he was nothing but a criminal; they all were. Even the promise of a reward wouldn't change them for the better. Her mother had tried to change mercenaries, and she'd almost been killed because of it. Still, this was a desperate time. Desperate measures were called for.


End file.
